


By the Tits of My Ancestors

by comavampure



Series: Ancestor's Tits [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Tabletop RPG), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anachronistic, Blooming Rose, Coterie - Freeform, Crime Scenes, Dark Fantasy, Dwarven Carta (Dragon Age), Dwarven Traditions, Dwarves, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Giant Spiders, Grimdark, Insert in Thedas, Logic, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Magic and Science, Magical Realism, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Murder, Organized Crime, Original Latinx Character - Freeform, Prostitution, Science, Slavery, Social Commentary, The Sopranos but for Dwarves, Titans (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 53
Words: 287,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comavampure/pseuds/comavampure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transported into Thedas, Lena River is thrust into Kirkwall years before the Fifth Blight hits Ferelden and thus three years before Hawke ever sets foot in Kirkwall.  What does a Dragon Age fan do to ensure their survival?  <i>Not get involved with the main story at all.</i>  Except that doesn't exactly work as she plans.</p><p>This story will span from 9:26 to 9:42 Dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through the Myst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: This will be the disclaimer from this chapter on. I do not own Dragon Age.

An excerpt from the personal diary of Madame Lena of House River

> When you've spent the majority of your young adult life coasting along, barely making ends meet, you’re considered pampered. Truth be told I was a pampered American from Earth and then I was suddenly a pampered American from Earth in Thedas.  While I had at one time, like many Dragon Age Fans, imagined that such an idea of being in Thedas would be amazing.  Trust me it is **not**.
> 
> Thedas is terrifying, scary and very deadly.  It is a jungle of barbarians out to kill anyone that is too different from their status quo.  If you aren’t amongst their supposed civilized society, then you have the myriad of dangerous beasts, creatures, and plant life out to kill you in the wild.  From bears larger than grizzlies, to brontos, druffalos, hell even wild mabari would rather see you dead than wait for you to domesticate them.  Although I did come across a rather docile fennec fox. That was short lived as apparently it had been a young fennec fox and it’s parents came bounding out hissing like the feral and potentially rabid beasts that they were. Needless to say, I ran like hell. 
> 
> And these are just the relatively normal beasts.  Don’t even get me started on the drakes, the dracolisk and good grief the dragonlings and dragons!  It’s not called Dragon Age for nothing.  You think the dragons in the games are the only ones around?  HA… I’ve had the misfortune of stumbling on several dragon and wyvern nests and there are far more nests across Thedas than the games and books would have you think.  But if you think stumbling into a dragon nest is bad try disturbing a ram from grazing, suddenly you have to hightail away from their horns while it chases you down.
> 
> But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Let me take you back to how this whole mess started.  With a book and the Antiquarian.

* * *

The hurried footsteps of Grand Central Station pushed her along and out to the main hub away from the terminals.  Lines and crowds of people hurrying to their trains; businessmen and women ran from one terminal to the next, trying to catch their trains.  She however was not in a rush and so slowed her footsteps but pulled aside so those in a hurry could get through. Despite the heavy foot traffic, she was in a great mood with her carry on suitcase rolling behind her and headphones plugged into her iPod playing tunes and a copy of her favorite Dragon Age book in her hand to read on the cab ride. It was a great day to be on vacation and she was looking forward to exploring the concrete jungle that was New York City.  However, a commotion ahead in the crowd of people had her, along with others, stretching to see  what had happened.  Rubberneckers slowing their pace to eye whomever was now holding up flow of movement.  

She drew closer allowing her to see that the commotion had in fact been an elderly man. He wore a patchy brown suit and penny loafers.  His flatcap barely contained his wild silver hair and he had a pair of precariously perched spectacles on the tip of his pinched nose.  He was crouched low on the floor with his trembling wrinkled fingers grasped at books and papers that were strewn about and out of his suitcase.  He looked up and into the crowds, mouth agape as he tried to draw someone _anyone_  to help him.  

Her path in the crowd drew her closer to the struggling senior.  Dozens of others simply walked past him acknowledging his presence with disgruntled mumbles and complaints.  Yet no one seemed to stop to help, even as he tried to move faster to be less of an inconvenience.  A few travelers in the crowd were in so much of a hurry they even stepped on one of the old man's books with a quick mumbled sorry or sometimes no apology.   

She would have side stepped around him, like so many others in the crowd, but the elderly man’s golden hued gaze met hers, pleading.  She was struck with the unusual coloring of his eyes and captivated by the intensity of the plea in them.  It pulled at her heart strings. Under normal circumstances and had she been like the others in a rush, she would not have stopped. But as she has a bit of time to spare, she went up to him with a polite smile and stooped low to her knees to help the senior.

“You look like you could use some help.”  She gave a tight forced smile. “Is there any particular order the papers need to be?” She left the question hanging as she drew the books and papers closer to her and away from the rushing crowds.

“Yes-yes, I could."  The old man nodded his head in thanks. "T-thank you.  And no, no order I just need a bit of help getting them all.”   She had to strain to hear him over the bustle of noise as his voice was soft and gentle but graveled and hoarse with age.  He'd probably had been vocally asking for help but no one would have heard him over the crowds.  

She picked up each book, dusting them off gently and straightened the papers before neatly tucking them into a book and then stacking them in an orderly fashion.  

The elder fellow paused to watch her.  He blinked in quick succession, a gleaming flash in his eyes as his pupils contracted into slits before dilating.  His lips stretched wide before he opened his spilled suitcase, rearranging the books within to allow more room.  Not all the books could fit, leaving a single stack to be carried. The old man used his fallen cane to stand, with his legs bent and torso still hunched over.  His hand touched his lower back with a wince.  “Thank you so much.  If-if I could trouble you for a little bit more help?”

She knew where this might go but again, she was in no rush and she doubted anyone else would have helped the man.  Not to mention her manners prevented her from outright saying no, even if she very much wanted to. “Do you need help carrying this home?”

“Yes, yes. It-it wouldn’t be very far."  he reassured her. "I live only a few blocks away.”  He wiped his nose with a cloth and removed his glasses to give them a light wipe before blinking up at her. He peered at her, his amber hues intense with that same plea that tore at her good nature. 

“I…”  It wasn’t like she was in a hurry.  Her check in wasn’t for a few hours at the hotel. With resignation, she gave a light smile and released a sigh. “I’d be happy to.  Which way do you live?”

“Oh thank you, young lady. It’s just this way.”  He pointed out toward a side exit.  Ignoring the grumbles and murmurs around them, she carried his stack of books and rolled her carry on after her as he pulled his own.  It was mostly slow going up the stairs but once they were out of the noisy station they weaved around the sidewalk traffic down forty-second street and then turned onto the less populated third avenue. 

“How far do you live?”  She asked as the rate at which she saw other walkers decreased. It made her nervous as she was acutely aware that she was in an unfamiliar city and though the sun was still high in the sky, it still left an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach as they made their way further from the more populated areas of the city.

“Oh not far.”  He said moving slowly, nowhere near as fast as his fellow New Yorkers. “Are you here on holiday?” He asked.

“What?”  She asked, confused.

“You have a carry on. Not many New Yorkers have that, unless they happen to be boosters. Are you a thief?”

“No-No!"  She added quickly to his amusement.  "But you know, you have a carry on too.”

“But _I’m_ a collector and you already know what's in my bag.”  He smiled as he turned them down another road. This one a lot more populated and the presence of more cars made her breathe a little easier.  “Well?”

She restrained a sigh.  She wasn't a sharer but it would be rude to not make some semblance of small talk. "Yes.  I'm on a small vacation. I’ve never been to New York before and I wanted to visit it at least once.”  She explained the barest of details. 

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to travel by yourself, es-especially for a sweet young lady such as yourself?” He gave a grin and she had to admit it was quite adorable. Still she gave a tight pleased smile at his compliment.  

“It is, but I was going to stick to just the main roads and not really wander…”  She trailed off looking around, for a moment she was unsure where she was but saw a street sign and reassured herself of where they were. She had spent weeks memorizing the streets and routes to take in NYC in preparation for this trip, she didn't want to be caught lost anywhere in the Big Apple.  The city was dangerous without adding in being lost.  

“Ah well, I’ll be sure to call you a cab, make sure you get back safely.”  He offered as they crossed the street, barely making it before the walk sign switched to stop.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, Actually, I think I'm not that far from my hotel.” She didn’t want him to repay her, it was only the polite thing to do to help despite the inconvenience.  Plus she got to see some of the streets and avenues she probably wouldn't have seen otherwise.  They continued on in companionable silence turning down another street, this one vacant of all over pedestrians and darkened due to the tall buildings.  “What do you collect anyway?”

“Books!” The old man proclaimed with cheek and excitement. 

“I gathered as much.”  She deadpanned.  “But what sorts of books?  I didn’t recognize any of the titles.”

“Most wouldn’t. They’re all antiquated tomes, first editions from barely known authors of old.  I collect them along with other antiques.  I suppose you could call me an antiquarian but that would compete with my shop name.”  He chuckled.  “Most of these books have also fallen out of favor at some point in history.  I restore them and take care of them.  Do you read much?”

“Yes, I love reading."  This time she gave a genuine smile.  Reading, books, writing, this she could talk about easily.  "I never thought much about the preservation of books but that's interesting.  What's the oldest book you've ever restored?"  The old man lit up with excitement as he explained the process of restoration and preservation most museums implemented on older works of art.  He took imprints of the text illustrations that were embossed and how with recent technology they took scans and pictures so there would at least be a digital copy somewhere.  

She mostly paid attention, instead taking stock of their surroundings. She'd heard horror stories about the city.  

“I can see you’re a reader of fantasy.” He drew her attention from their surroundings as he pointed to the only book that stuck out in the stack she held. 

She blanched, stopping to pull the smaller and newer book out from the stack of older tomes.  It’s cover in varying shades of gray with a depiction of a heavily armored and helmeted man.  The words _Dragon Age_ in large print and underneath _Asunder._   "Nearly forgot I was carrying this, wouldn't want to leave it behind.”  She placed it on top of the stack so it was visible.  

“Hmm."  The gentleman looked far off.  "Ah, I know where I recognized that.  My grandson, he's about your age.  He plays these games on that what do you call it...” 

"Do you mean a computer?" She offered amused.  

"Yes, that!"  He chuckled and wiped his nose with a small cloth he pulled from his suit jacket.  "I’m not so old I don’t know what _video_ games are.” 

“Oh I didn’t mean anything by it.“

“Nonsense, I know how ancient I look.  Besides, I highly approve of your reading material.  Many of the books I collect are first editions of fairy tales, the basis for more contemporary fantasy.”  He turned them down another street, this one with more foot traffic.  “I do like how storytelling has changed an-and become available to the young people, even through your...uh.”  He trailed off again. 

"Computers?" She offered again and he gave a mock withering look her way. 

"I would have remembered." he mumbled and then broke into a small coughing fit.  He seemed to age even more as he coughed into his handkerchief.  They resumed walking once he gained control of his breathing and beamed brightly at her, his eyes crinkled as he readjusted his glasses. 

“But, nothing quite beats a good book.” She quipped with a smile as they continued forward. 

“Oh you flatter me, Miss...”  

“Selena, or… Lena.” There was no harm in giving her first name. 

“I’m Rahmi Morgan, of Morgan and Sons.”  He held his hand out and she shook it. 

“Morgan and Sons? Is that a law firm?” She asked, flushing when he gave a bark of laughter.

“N-no.  I told you I’m a _collector_.  It’s just the name for our family run business.  It dates back to colonial times, so we keep the business going.”  He waved a hand.  “You’ll see.  The shop is really quite nice.”  He mused.

The unlikely pair continued on until they neared an overpass with a row of buildings underneath it.  The buildings rattled as a train passed overhead at high speeds.  

Lena gaped at the shop they approached.  When he’d said antiques and books she imagined a rustic maybe even run down shop but what the old man walked up to was a very well maintained shop with a display, showcasing a grandfather clock, several dolls and a collection of first edition book replicas with signs advertising the real ones in stock.  The shop window was made of a rich oak wood, polished and shined despite the gritty urban environment. 

“Not what you expected huh?”  Rahmi chuckled as he shuffled to the door and opened it.  The bell over the door alerting the attendant there were visitors. “Come in dear.  I have something for you.  To thank you.”

“Oh it was nothing at all.”  She wanted to wave it off.  She followed him inside intending on dropping the books off and calling a cab.

“I **insist**.” He nodded with a sense of finality and waved to the cashier.

“Grandfather?  I told you to call me- oh!  May I help you, Miss?”  The store attendant looked the spitting image of the elderly gentleman, except sixty years younger and taller with short cropped black hair and the same intense golden hued eyes.  Lena retracted into herself under his piercing gaze. 

The interior of the shop was just as rich as the exterior.  Bookshelves and stands filled with tomes, books and scrolls lined most of the walls and where there was an exposed wall, paintings and wall art hung. There were statues and plants, and even a cage with an oddly colored bird swinging on its swing.  There was a small fireplace, though upon closer inspection it was an electric one.  She couldn’t imagine a live fire being around all this wood and books being good. 

“Oh no, I was just-“

“This young lady was very kind to escort me home. Offer her something to drink while I fetch the book.” He disappeared before she could tell him she didn’t need anything. The gentleman moved a lot faster once inside the shop. 

“Once Grandfather has his mind set, it's hard to get him to give up. There's no stopping him.”  The attendant sighed, shaking his head slowly.  “I’m Daerin.”  He introduced himself with the tight polite smile of a service worker or what she called the customer service smile. 

“Lena.  I was just doing what anyone should do because he dropped his books- these books.”  She moved to put the stack down but Daerin came up and grabbed them. 

“Thank you for helping him.  I swear I tell him to call me to pick him up but he insists on walking."  He moved to the counter with the stack and then stopped. "All of these books?”  He eyed the top one, it was her book.  

"That one is mine, sorry."  So much for remembering about it.  

“Was about to say.  My grandfather wouldn’t need to travel all the way to New Orleans to get a copy of this, I already have one.”  He clucked handing it to her.  Lena grabbed it with haste to conceal it but his words registered and she blinked up at him.  “So… you’re a Dragon Age fan.”  His gaze examined her. 

It made her self-conscious of her frumpy appearance with her too large clothing meant to hide her overabundance of curves, She tugged at her light jacket, trying to hide.  "Yeah. I mean yes.  I am."

"Interesting... well grandfather said to get you something to drink.  Please, have a seat.  Is tea alright?”

She supposed she could go for some tea. “Uh, yeah.”

“Jasmine?” He questioned with an intensity in his eyes.  He blinked and like his grandfather his eyes contracted into slits briefly before he blinked again.  Lena missed it as she sat in a lounge chair by the electric fireplace.  

“That'd be great! It's actually my favorite kind of tea”

“ **Wonderful**. I’ll be right back, then.” He was gone only a few minutes but came out with a tray of tea cups and set it on the small table between the two lounge chairs. 

“So, which game is your favorite?”  He poured the steaming water into the cups and Lena grabbed her cup.  Tentatively she went to sip it but a thump sounded. They glanced up at the ceiling. 

“I’m alright!”  A graveled raised voice called. “Just some books fell.” 

“Is he actually okay?” She asked.

“Oh yes, grandfather is actually quite sprightly, despite his old age. ”  Daerin smiled.  "So...?" 

“I would say the second game is my favorite.” She said as she blew on the tea.

“Really?”  He looked shocked.  “I would have pegged you for someone who’d like the newest one, Inquisition due to the pretty graphics.”  He gave a wink.

“Well, yes that is very nice, but I’m someone who appreciates a good story. And while Inquisition is very nicely written, the characters sort of…”

“Fall flat?” Daerin offered.

“Exactly!”

"Truth be told, I’m a big fan of Origins more, but I can see the allure of the second game.” Daerin smirked and then faced her, leaned forward with all the seriousness he could muster. “Mages or Templars?”  He quirked a critical eyebrow at her.

Lena was suspicious, she knew the potential dangers of that question.  Well, not really dangers but it was a very important question in the fandom. "Mages."  She said slowly with a shrewd look. 

“Oh thank the maker. I thought you were one of those fangirls who were all for the Templars, just because of Alistair and Cullen.”  Daerin grinned.  “When it’s so obvious how much suffering mages go through.”

“I know!”  Lena exclaimed with a grin.  The two quickly diverged into fan talk while sipping at their tea.  The conversation flowing around the games the books, even the comics for well over an hour.  Time seemingly flying by, until Lena’s phone went off.  She excused herself and an automated voice let her know she had until five to check in.  She paled, having forgotten all about her reservation.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes.  Sorry I lost track of time, it’s almost time for me to check in.  I had a nice time chatting but I really should get going.”  She picked up her bags and grabbed her carry on, intending on leaving. 

“Wait, let me go call you a cab.” Daerin pulled out his phone and with a few quick words into his cell there was a cab on its way.  “Oh, do you mind if I have your number? I don’t know many Dragon Age fans in real life.  We should keep in touch.”  He added an extra charming smile, that Lena grinned at but gave him her cell and he sent a quick text and she added him to her contacts.  “Now while you wait for the cab, I’ll go see about my grandfather.  I swear he was going to give you something.” 

She did wait, a wide smile as she tucked her phone away.  Her eyes taking everything the shop _The Antiquarian_ had to offer.  Some of the paintings that adorned the few exposed walls looked to be hand painted. 

There was one large photo of a woman and two children.  She stepped to get a closer look.  The painted woman had dark black hair pinned back by a crown of sorts that made her look like she had horns but a few locks escaped to hang on one side.  Her golden hued eyes, piercing through whomever looked into them, were accentuated by a dark purple eye shadow.  She wore an elaborate dark red and purple gown and in one hand she held a rod or staff of sorts.  The two children were no doubt her own as they had the same piercing golden eyes. They too also held staff like things.  The backdrop looked to be a tall winding castle framed in a green sky.

Lena met the gaze of the woman again. She looked familiar.

“Ah, you’ve found the painting of my ancestor, Morgan.”  The graveled voice of Rahmi drew her from the painting. 

“She’s very beautiful.”

“That she was and feared.  Her two sons, Falon and Dirk took her name as surnames because of the fear they invoked, it commanded a certain respect as well.  Falon was my great great… ooh so many greats grandfather.”  Rahmi shuffled closer.  “But come, I have this book.  I think you’ll like it.  It’s called the Age of Dragons.”  The corners of his eyes crinkled.

“The Age of Dragons?”  Lena laughed.

“I thought you might like that.  It’s quite a read.  It really brings you **right into the story.** ” He held out a behemoth of a tome.  The cover itself was intricately designed with metal casings and leather straps; the title embossed in bronze and a depiction of dragons and a lone cloaked figure walking straight for them. 

Lena grabbed the book, placing her copy of _Asunder_ down on the counter.  “Woah.”  She opened it and turned the pages.  The first few pages had an odd assortment of characters, almost encrypted because she couldn’t recognize any of it as any language she knew.  She went to turn the page, catching a sharp edge and hissing.  “Ouch, paper cut.”  She smiled at Rahmi and he reached for a tissue box and held it out.  His eyes blinked, the pupils contracting into slits again.  This time Lena caught it and started at him.  She shook her head but looked back at the book.

“Go on, read the first page.” He insisted with unrestrained glee.  He looked younger when he smiled. 

Lena turned to the first chapter and there was a full page illustration of a cloaked figure in a shop, facing a skeleton in a chair, odd assortments surrounding them.  A large mirror and even what looked like a Golem.  If she didn’t know any better, this almost looked like the Black Emporium but this book looked ancient and couldn't be based off the game.  

'Once upon a time…' Lena read and nearly rolled her eyes at the cliché beginning and skipped a few paragraphs in. 

 

> 'The antiquarian insisted she read the intricate tome he placed in front of her. “It will put you right into the story itself and you’ll go on an amazing adventure.”
> 
> “Adventure? What about romance?” the cloaked buyer asked, turning the pages. The figure hissed as they drew their fingers back and sucked on their bleeding finger, cut from the sharpest of paper edges.

Lena looked up at Rahmi.  No… that was a coincidence.

 

> “Aye romance too, if that’s what you want.” The seller assured the figure.
> 
> “Will there be realism?”
> 
> “If that is what you wish.”
> 
> “There is nothing like a bad story that couldn’t suspend my disbelief by not making it realistic.  If it’s too fantastical I just lose all interest.”

Lena agreed with the cloaked figure.  

 

> “Fear not, this will have everything you desire in a fantastical tale.” The seller boasted.
> 
> “Very well, how do I make it work?”
> 
> “Simply stare into the illustration right there.” 

Lena quirked her brow and looked at the first chapter’s illustration and then back to the text.  Only what was written changed, somehow.

 

> She glanced at the image of the lounging immortal skeleton when a low humming began. It grew in pitch and reverberated around her steadily and increasingly.  

There was a hum, faint at first and then it became louder.  At first she thought it was just another train because it sounded like vibrating metal and but there was something off about this.  Lena looked up but Rahmi was gone. She looked around the store and he wasn't in the room. 

"Hello?" She called but no one answered.  She turned back to the counter, movement from the book drawing her eye. 

 

> She returned to stare at the illustration, the image coming to life.  A stone golem shifting boxes and an urchin child chasing away rats. 

Lena returned to stare at the illustration, the image coming to life.  A stone golem shifting boxes and an urchin child chasing away giant rats.  She didn't look back at the text but it continued describing her movements, unbeknownst to her as she gazed at the picture moving.

The low humming became louder, almost deafening.  She winced and went to cover her ears as it began to echo.  She wanted to turn to find out what it was but she couldn't; she physically could not.  The sound drew her to the book  more and more as it cascaded around her.  

The black ink of the text bubbled and leaked up from the pages and spilling out around her turning into a thick heavy smoke.  It bellowed out and around, encasing her.  With the breath she took to scream for help she was gone from the antique store, the tome slamming shut as the smog cleared in her absence.  The only trace of Lena left was her copy of _Asunder_ left on the counter by the book Age of Dragons.

“I rather liked her.” Came Daerin’s voice as he and his grandfather walked out from the back, their eyes contracting. “it’s a shame we had to use her…”

“She was a nice girl. I hope she survives.”  Rahmi ambled up and grabbed the tome off the counter.  His feet shuffling as he traveled into the basement of the antique shop.  Rows upon rows of similar tomes each with their own difference but all named _Age of Dragons_ on the spine.  Rahmi didn't place the newest edition on the shelf but rather on a book stand in the center of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe I actually wrote this. I legitimately can't believe I wrote this. I said it way back in October I was planning another story. I apologize for everything you're about to read. And yes, Lena a bit like I do/would.
> 
> Some credits, the "Age of Dragons" book idea is a remixed version of the Linking Books taken from the MYST game and book series, where each book is called "Ages" and links to other universes. Hence the chapter title Through the Myst. I have to credit them somehow! But I don't own that idea, I just liked it a lot and decided to use it for this.
> 
> Please tell me what you think! Comments are _very_ appreciated. Also if you're critical of Lena, I may cry a _little_ bit because she is basically me, but I approve of all critical comments either way.


	2. Crown Deficit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena lands in the Black Emporium and realizes where she is, to her horror.

The scream died in her throat before she could even let it out as she came into being in the back section of an unusual peculiar shop of oddities and intrigue.  It was located underground upon a cliff precariously hanging over a steep drop down toward a ravine that gave of a mystifying green glow. A simple wooden bridge with wooden fence posts allowed one to cross over the ravine up and out toward the exit. The walls of the shop were adorned in metal and wooden bookshelves, held up by large metal chain links and large wooden struts underneath them.   The high arching wooden roof was kept up by rafters and struts and a sole opening led up and out. White crow, black doves and canopy of vines and peculiar plants inhabited the rafters.  In the center of the shop was single raised slab with a grand chair illuminated by a stream of light from above. Vines nearly overtaking the single occupant of the chair.

Lena could only see the back of the chair as she managed to stop herself from falling over.  Her grip on her bags tight as she shivered.  "What... where am I?" Her voice squeaked.  The sound of stone grating against stone and loud thumping on wood alerted her to something, or someone, approaching.

A large thing made of stone, carved into with runic symbols she couldn't understand approached her.  Its skin was stone, or granite, or some kind of mineral she'd never seen before.  The runic symbols all glowed but somehow did not illuminate.  Beside the stone golem was a small child, peering down at her with curiosity.  The child was taller than her!  She gaped up at the child

"Who is it? How did they get past the wards?" A voice reverberated around the entire shop and Lena gulped as she took in her surroundings.  Tables laden with books, a box with muffled screaming, and a large towering mirror with all assortment of candles around it.

"Thaddeus, bring them to me." The voice reverberated and Lena yelped, trying to turn and run as large stony fingers gripped her arm and dragged her forward.

"Hey!  Wait... stop it!" She tripped immediately and was dragged across the floor.  Lena glared at her feet only to see her pants were too long as they flowed over her flats, which she could feel were breaking at the seams and popped off and out from her pants.  The once loose and flowing tunic she wore now fit her snuggly and flared at her hips.  Her body was thicker than she remembered and far too short; her feet were bigger and her hands... well her hands were just as small as she recalled, with short stubby fingers. She froze, hands touching her stomach and hips.

Now Lena had never been model thin, but she had never been obese. Sure she would admit she was chunky but this was... this was far more than just chunky, more than just overweight.  She was now thick and it wasn't as distributed with her height because now she was short. If she'd have to guess, she lost a whole foot maybe even more.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BODY?" Lena screeched as she was set in front of the grand plush chair and came face to face with that of a skeleton with a large book propped up by a hand. It's head moved, traces of blackened and aged tendons moving it and dead eyes taking her in.  The smell of long aged putrefaction making her gag and turn away. 

"How rude!  Now kindly tell me how did you get in here?" It jaw moved, yet there was no tendons there and it seemed to move completely disembodied by the rest of it.

"What... who..." Lena asked bewildered.  "What are you?!"

A wheezing cough sounded from the skeleton and Lena shuddered at the burst of dust from its mouth.  "I should be asking you that.  Hmm, a dwarf with no magic, no surprise."

"Who-who are you?"  Lena had an idea but it was impossible.  No way.  But, considering she had been in a bookstore called the Antiquarian.  This was no coincidence.  'Where did Rahmi send me, what was Rahmi?  What was Daerin? What happened? Why did they do this?!' Her head swam with questions.

"I am Xenon the Antiquarian and you were not invited to my shop." It's mouth continued to move but it.. his name made Lena feel dread, made her stomach drop and it made Lena sick.

 _"_ No no.  No!  I cannot be here. Not here. That's not possible!" Lena rasped as she searched around her, from the Stone Golem to the Mirror of Transformation, each item damning her to the realization that was creeping on her. 

"How did you get in here?  Did the Carta send you?" 

"No!  No one sent me... I ... I was looking at a book and then... I was here."  She babbled her explanation, body shaking.

"A book?" The skeleton, Xenon hummed in thought, its head swiveling. "What kind of book?"

"I-I... don't know!"  Lena stuttered, shrinking away from Xenon. 

"Bah! You're useless.  Thaddeus, see that the dwarf leaves."  Xenon turned back to the book he had and once again the large stone hand grabbed Lena.

"Dwarf?!"  She snapped and then looked at her body and it clicked.  She was a dwarf!  She looked up at Xenon even as she was effectively thrown out of the shop, her belongings strewn around her as she scrambled up and tried for the door as it slammed shut.  "Wait!  I have questions!"  She yelped and banged on the door but the door disappeared into the darkened stone wall in front of her with a faint shimmering blue.  She jumped back and gaped at the door. "What the fuck..."

Her head whipped back and forth around her.  It looked like a covered alley, dark and dusty.  Distant echoes of the ocean and the general stench of a sewer not far made her gag.  If she were to assume she was where she thought she was, then that'd put her in Darktown.  Somewhere she did not want to be.  With haste, she picked up her items, cursing as she stubbed her now large and bare feet and then rolled her pants up.  At least, her fingers were the same.  Their familiarity gave her some comfort as she gathered her items and effects. 

Her carry on now looked like a large suitcase, filled with clothes that would be too big and too long for her and the odd electronic she brought with her.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and looked around her frantically. Once sure no one was around, she dug into the case and yanked out a small metal box, her iPhone.  Unlocking it, she cringed when the unlocking sound played and echoed around.  Quickly turning the volume down, she paused at No Signal on the top left made her frown.  _Of course there wouldn't be signal._  She sniffed, her eyes tearing up as she stuffed everything else she had on her in the case, even if it made it bursting.  Her small backpack was too large for her new dwarfish body.  At the very least, she didn't feel heavier so her mass was still the same. 

Wiping her tears away, she looked around again. She couldn't stay here.  Could she?

No, she couldn't.  Especially as she tried once again to find the door she was thrust from.  There were no seams, no knobs, no latch for a hidden entrance; it was just a smooth stone wall.  Her fingers caught on nothing, at least where she could reach. Minutes of exploration turned to an hour of her getting desperate.  She banged her fist on the wall, pleading to be let back in but no one answered her. 

Finally pulling out a single tube of lipstick from her suitcase she marked the wall, intent on coming back to this spot.   Then she picked a direction and began trekking that way, sticking to the left.  She responded to each sound and echo around her, showing just how jumpy she was.  Eyes wide and trying to make sure no one or thing snuck up on her. 

Was it actually possible she was in Kirkwall? It seemed like madness, the very thing she used to write about happening and yet here she was.  'No No.  Better be sure first,' she thought. For all she knew she could have been dosed.  The tea she drank could have been laced with some large quantities of LSD.  She'd never once had a good acid trip.  She could be lying defenseless in an antique shop in the middle of bumfucknowhere with two strangers... She stopped that train of thought as she shivered at the implications of what could be happening to her now, to her defenseless body. 

But if this was a hallucination or a dream, this was very unlike any dream she'd ever had.  Lucid or otherwise. 

Her bare feet slapped against the stone and she froze as a high pitched screech made her turn around a corner, only to see the largest rat she'd ever had the misfortune of coming across. It was being kicked at repeatedly by a giant of a person.  No... a normal sized person.  She was the one who was tiny now.  She slid back around the corner, and peeked around.

"Blasted things."  A distinctly accented female voice griped.  Lena twitched as the screeching of the rat died off suddenly.  The rat was likely dead. She gulped and looked again.

"Where's your man?"  Another said, this one male.  Lena once again peeked around the corner, and watched as the two lingered.  Hoods drawn and very pointy swords in their hands as they dispatched and shucked away the giant rat. 

"He'll be here." The woman said, arms crossed.  Lena could see she was barefoot and wore light green cloth clothes with dark brown leathers strapped over her shins, and arms.  Between the space of her gloves and sleeves, Lena could spot intricate blue tattoos or markings that disappeared underneath the cloth and she could spot them again where the woman's shoulders were somewhat exposed.  Lena watched as she pulled her light brown hood down revealing dark blonde locks pinned back into a high bun, but that wasn't what drew Lena's eyes.  No it was the woman's ears which were large, elongated, and pointed. 

 _That's an elf!_ Lena snapped back around and pressed against the wall, her hand clutched at her chest. She wanted to scream and point but managed to keep herself from saying anything.  Instead she looked around like the eavesdropper that she was.  She took in the elf's eyes and they were large and wide and unsettling to look at.  Lena noticed everything else off about the woman-elf.   She was too thin when compared with how much armor she was wearing and her head a tad too large for her body.

"Quiet... there he is."  The female elf said, drawing Lena's attention back to the conversation she'd missed.   Instead faint footsteps drew Lena's gaze toward where they looked, down the corridor.  A dark haired man with scruff on his chin and he looked around suspiciously, making sure the corridor was empty.  Lena ducked back around her corner and listened.

"Raleigh, back again."  The female elf said with a bit of haughtiness to her voice.  "You got the coin?"

"Athenril.  You know I'm good for it." The man's rich voice made Lena choke. 

Lena stuffed her fist into her mouth.  Between the names and the voices, she recognized both parties.  But who was the third man?  She desperately wanted to look and figure it out but she also didn't want to get caught. They had swords; pointy and deadly swords that could skewer her alive and she did not have a death wish.

"That's what you said last time.  I've yet to see the five crowns from last time." Athenril’s voice took on a dangerous tone.  “You wouldn’t want to upset my boss, would you?”

“Like he’d come out for someone like me.”  Raleigh scoffed. 

“You sure you want to risk Harlan’s wrath?” Athenril pressed.  Lena had to strain to hear them now, she skirted dangerously close to the corner. Some mumbled words passed between them but she couldn’t hear. 

“You’ve got the lyrium or not?” Raleigh grumbled.

'Lyrium! Good lord, that’s right they are smugglers after all.  But I thought the Carta would have issues with people on their turf.'  Lena mused.  She risked exposure and looked around the corner.  

“Depends.”  Athenril mused, unfazed by Raleigh’s agitation.

“Fine, here’s your gold.”  A purse of coins exchanged hands and Athenril gave a pleased hum as she counted it out.  “Well?”

“Here.”  The third fellow now spoke, hopping off the crate he had sat on.  “Enough lyrium for the month.”  Raleigh went to grab it but the unnamed fellow pulled the small box back.  “But if I hear of you tarnishing my name again, Samson.  Then you’ll be swiftly meeting the depths of the Waking Sea.  Understand?”

“H-Harlan?!”  Samson shied back but didn’t stumble even as the third fellow raised a sword and pointed it at him. 

“Aye.  Don’t think I’ve gotten too big to deal with you _addicts_.”  Harlan spat. 

Their voices lowered imperceptibly and Lena leaned a bit more around the corner to try and listen.  What were they saying?  Was the lyrium deal going sour? 

It was then Lena felt something brush against her foot.  It was large and furry with an elongated tail.  It was not one rat but two very large rats.  Lena was not fond of rats or mice, or most rodents in general.  They were, to her knowledge, disease ridden pests and nuisances.  So when she looked down and saw two rats darting past her legs and around the corner, she gave a shriek.  A tick too late she covered her mouth. 

“Who’s there?!”

There was a scuffle and the sounds of fighting.  The rats, in response to her startled shriek and the screaming Athenril and Harlan gave their own frightened screech. Their teeth flashing in the low light and went straight for her feet. 

“SAMSON! GET BACK HERE.”

There was someone running now, their footsteps echoing around her as she stumbled away from the rats, trying to avoid their bite.

“Get him, Athenril!”

She stumbled back, yanking her suitcase down to try and bludgeon the vermin. She tripped out into the corridor, running on poorly placed instinct as she moved further from the rodents and out into the open.  And unfortunately into the running form of Athenril who tripped over her and they both went careening to the floor just as Samson darted around another corner, lost to the maze of Darktown.

Once she got her bearings and Athenril also rose taking off quickly without giving her a second glance, Lena quickly found herself with a dagger held to her throat and slammed against the wall.

“You! What’s your name, _dwarf?_ ” Harlan turned out to be a brutish looking fellow with a long scar down one side of his face that placed his mouth into a permanent grimace made worse when he snarled at her.  His dull grey eyes boring into her dark brown ones and his grip tight and harsh against her shoulders.

Lena yelped as her feet kicked at the empty air below her.

“L-Lena...”  She stammered, eyes drawn to the sharpened edge of the dagger.

“Well well.  Are you with the Carta?  Are they finally making their move?” Harlan pestered her.

“No-No! I’m not with anyone!  I’m no-one!”

Harlan spat a globule of black tar onto the floor, his gaze hard as he examined her. “No one?  Then why were you eavesdropping?”

“I wasn’t dropping no eaves, sir!”  She automatically fumbled over Samwise Gamgee’s words with fake accent and all.  That seemed to piss Harlan off and he growled.

Athenril came bounding up.  “He got away.  With the lyrium _and_ the coin.”

Lena gulped as Harlan scowled at her and then grinned.  “Well well.  Looks like this No one just became someone.  Lena was it?”

She gulped but nodded.  “Looks like you owe me fifteen crowns for the loss you caused by _dropping eaves_.”  The dagger pressed at her throat.  She squawked as she felt it cut, barely skimmed the surface of her skin. “Check her bag.”

“What- I don’t-“  Her words were cut off as the dagger was placed harder and blood began collecting into a drip.  She refrained from gulping and remained silent.  Athenril, once kicking away the rats that had indeed been bludgeoned by the suitcase, was at a loss as to how to open it. 

“Sir…” She peeked up with confusion.  “I’m not sure how to… what is this contraption?”

Harlan looked away from Lena to the bag and glowered.  His hands came off her.  She slumped down to the floor, barely catching herself right.  A sword now held in front of it.  “You dwarves, have to make everything so difficult.  Open it.”

Lena was sopping up the blood from her neck with her tunic but nodded and tripped over to her suitcase, still unused to her new shortened height.  “You just…”  She paused as Harlan gave a growl. 

 _'_ Right, don’t talk just do.  Don’t do anything to piss off the man with the pointy sword and dagger,' she reminded herself. She undid the zipper and was pushed away.  They rifled through her clothes and belongings.  There were bottles, plastic bottles of her soaps and shampoos and even a regular bottle.  They stopped at those, smelling the soaps and then looked to her.  They bagged those.

That’s when they found her iPad.  Her eyes widened but they weren’t paying attention as Harlan picked it up and turned it around.  It was covered in a snug industrial rubber protective case.  Lena always favored protecting her electronics. 'Why buy something for several thousands of dollars and not protect it?' She thought. Athenril pulled her phone out and her iPod and she was met with their confused looks.

“You… what are these?”

Through the fear, she only managed one word “Ta-tablets…”  She shuddered as they both rolled their eyes and tossed them haphazardly back in the bag.  She could only imagine one of them probably now had a chip or crack in the screen but she was more concerned with the sword.

“These garments look too big for a dwarf.”  Athenril muttered.  “You must be a thief.”

“What!  No-o. I’m not a thief!  Those are mine!” She stammered, shivering as the sword cut her cheek and she fell back and away. 

“Thief or no, these clearly don’t suit you.” Harlan gave a cruel laugh.  “I bet some noble would pay a high price for these.” He pulled up a single lacey bra of hers and his eyebrows rose.

“Wait-wait!”  Lena tried but once again Harlan’s sword pushed her back down to the ground where she shrunk against herself.  “Pl-please… those are mine.” The soaps she could live without but her clothes?  She’d need something to cover herself.

Harlan didn’t pay her any mind, even ignoring her except to insure the sword remained threatening as he sifted through her suitcase some more. Now that he knew how to open the zipper he blatantly began rifling through the pockets on the front, pulling out papers and then finally a wad of bills and some coin.  He discarded the bills but focused on the coins, squinting at them. 

Athenril on the other hand was now looking at Lena.  Lena sent her a pleading look.  She remembered the elf had never been mean in the game. She remembered the woman had even been logical and not spiteful, unless you actually screwed her over. 

“Please…” She whimpered to Athenril who narrowed her eyes. A moment of intense sniffling and whimpering later however, the elf took a deep breath in and gave a nod.

“Harlan.  Look at her.” Athenril rose.  “The garments are of high quality.  And she’s probably from Orzammar.  Maybe even an exile from some noble house.”

Harlan paused and looked back to Lena, his gaze now critically looking her up and down.  They lingered on her chest and bottom, at first with mild appreciation, until he looked up at her face.  He gave a grunt and turned to Athenril.  

“She could work for you.”

Work!  Yes.  She could do that!

“Hmph.”  Harlan stood up and gestured for her to do so as well. Only she was too slow, still shaken by the entire encounter. “Get up.”  he growled and she jumped, stumbling and twisted her ankle. She hopped on one foot and then stood still when Harlan gave a glare.  “Turn around.” She did as he asked, turning around until she faced him again, feeling like she was on display. 

“You only had four silvers on you. So that’s fourteen crowns and ninety-six silvers you still owe me.” 

'Four silvers?' She eyed the coin he held in his hands.  **Quarters** _._   She almost wanted to correct him.  Those weren’t silver but she bit her tongue.  Better he didn’t know the truth of how very little silver were in quarters, if any at all was even in them.  “Do you understand.  I would have taken all your…items but I think I know someone who can fetch a much higher price for your services _._ ”  The way Harlan practically eye fucked her, raking his gaze up and down her body suggestively made her pale and feel sick. 

She wouldn’t do that!  She had some self-respect for herself.  She’d sooner clean up toilets on her hands and knees then prostitute herself.

“Or…”  Athenril came to her rescue, stepping forward.  “…she can work as a servant.” Lena thanked the high stars for Athenril’s kinder nature.  She wanted to kiss the ground she walked on. 

Harlan snorted.  “If that’s how she wants to repay me.  But it’ll take her years.” Harlan turned away, sheathing his sword and walking “Deliver her to the Rose and make sure Madame Luisine knows how much in debt she is.”  Harlan turned from them and walked down. 

Once the two were alone, Athenril turned a sharp gaze to her. “You _owe_ me.”

“Bi-big time.  Tha-thank you.” Lena felt tears come to her eyes again but she swallowed them down.

“No you don’t understand.  I put my neck out for you.  That means if you screw up… its on me.”  Athenril pushed her back until she bumped against the wall.  “ _Don’t_ make me regret it.” Elves as it turned out became decidedly scarier in darkened corridors, their eyes glowing and their teeth bared in anger. Lena shrunk away from Athenril.

“I- won’t!”  Lena promised and cringed as Athenril gave a deep throated growl before pulling away.

“Pick up your things, we have to make it there before the sun rises.” Athenril crossed her arms and Lena carefully shoved her things back into her suitcase, trying to make it less bulky.  It rolled just fine on uneven ground but going up stairs was a chore, so much so that Athenril simply hefted it up and carried it up, with Lena trailing after her.  Her eyes taking in the alleys and twists and turns they took in the midst of Darktown as their bare feet barely made a sound. 

Dozens of staircases later, Lena felt the strain in her thighs and the pain in her feet.  She was barely used to the handful of stairs from NYC so walking the distance they crossed plus the increased number of stairs and the steepness they were angled at sometimes, she was overwhelmed.  Her breath was short as she panted up the stairs and they came up from Darktown into an alley with a hidden area from the main roads of what looked like High town.  Tall ornate buildings with small patches of grass and trees lining the walkways and beautiful arches every so often.  The sky was dark and cloudy but Lena made out the glow of the moons.  _Plural_. 

She froze at the sight as the clouds revealed the starry sky.  It was beautiful, gorgeous, and unrecognizable.  The large arm of whatever galaxy they were in was not the arm of the Milky Way she knew.  If this was even in a galaxy she knew of.  But the speckled night sky was filled with stars, far more than she had ever been aware of looking at back home.  "Two moons. I really am in Kirkwall. In Thedas." Lena whispered beneath her breath. 

“Come on.  The guards shouldn’t be on patrol anymore.”  Athenril darted out and Lena gave a whine but ran after her, feeling the strain in her legs and lungs. She tripped a fair deal, used to much longer legs able to carry her further.  She had to take nearly twice as many steps as Athenril had to and thus twice as many breaths as well. 

She was more than just winded by the time a familiar sign came into view. The intricate pink and green rose on a wooden sign hung over a door on a walkway that was out of the way but if you knew where to look it was easy to find your way.  There were other signs on other doors but Lena didn’t get a chance to examine them as she was pulled inside. 

The Blooming Rose was quiet, as opposed to noisy.  But as Athenril led her in, she saw why.  The place was all but empty save for the masked servants cleaning up the tables and bar, shooing away the drunks and last customers.  One such customer was heavily hooded and darted past her and Athenril.  She caught only the flash of bright cerulean eyes and tanned skin as they exited with a mumbled accented apology when they bumped into her.    

“What’s this? Athenril, you know you’re not to come in here.” An elderly woman with white locks and a stern pinched look, peered down at them. Between the overly colorful dress and overdone makeup, the woman was the very essence of a painted lady, yet she demanded respect.

“Harlan has a new girl for you.”  Athenril explained and pointed to Lena.  Lena nervously stepped up and gazed up at the elderly woman.  She recognized her as the brothel owner. 

“That **man** …”  Luisine sighed and shook her head.

“She owes him fifteen crowns.” She offered with a smirk.

“Fifteen crowns!”  Madame Luisine looked back at Lena with wide eyes and raised brows.  “Whatever did she do to earn that steep of a debt?”

Athenril went to explain but Madame Luisine held her hand up and waved it off.

“Forget I asked.  Its better I don’t know.” She huffed and tutted while looking Lena up and down.  “I have no spare rooms.  A cot will do for now.  I’ll see about getting a better look at you in the morning, I’m much too tired right now.”  Madame Luisine pulled her forward. 

Lena looked back to see Athenril smirk before she darted back out the door.  The elderly woman gave a concerned look at her suitcase but shook her head, muttering as they walked toward a large open room with a single fireplace with the walls lined in three tier bunk beds.  “There.  Sleep there, and I’ll deal with you in the morning.”  She turned away as Lena climbed into the lower bunk, setting her suit case in the back corner as soundlessly as she could.

“Thank you.”  She slipped out as the woman went to exit but she gave her a squinted look. 

“What did you say your name was?”

“Selena… Lena for short.”  She muttered as she pulled the thin blanket up over herself.  A series of shushes echoed before grumbles sounded as the others in the bunk turned over.

“Yes… well Lena _._   Don’t thank me yet.”  Madame Luisine closed the door, leaving Lena curled up on her side.  If it weren’t for how exhausted she was, she probably would have cried herself to sleep but as soon as her eyes closed she was asleep. Perhaps when she woke up it would be back on the train away from this terrible nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! I didn't expect the reception that I got for this. So many comments and just on the first chapter! You guys, my readers, are fantastic! I love each and every one of you for encouraging me on this, ill-advised, project! And I especially like the ones who helped me out on the first chapter with how I needed to improve the dialogue and the way it reads. **MelonPalooza** , I thank you especially because you made me realize the entire chapter was lacking Lena's personality and how she would react to things internally. it read somewhat dry and was very lacking. For that I apologize so I went in and re-did that and I hope it reads much better. 
> 
> To clarify, when Lena said "tablets" Athenril and Harlan rolled their eyes because they think she meant "Stone Tablets" because you know... She's a dwarf. -mumblesracistunderherbreath-


	3. One Month In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month in Kirkwall and Lena is no closer to finding a way back home. She does meet someone unexpected at the Rose.

Hunched over the floor with a sopping wet rag, Lena slapped it against the wood before she scrubbed at the dry caked on ale, stew, and occasional vomit and piss. Patrons of the Rose jeered, laughed, engaged in merrymaking and enjoyed their drinks and meals. Workers flirted with witty one-liner puns advertising the services they offered. All of this while she slopped up the dirt and filth off the floor, only for there to be more in the exact same spot in but a few hours.

She should have waited until the Blooming Rose closed but this way the sticky resin of spilled drinks, dropped meats, and fat wouldn't be quite as thick by the time she grabbed the bucket of soapy water. She also would like to not have to kill herself and back whilst scrubbing the floor. Not that Madam Lusine cared, nor did any of the other servants. Her job _was_ to clean the floor. Her job _was_ to make sure the floor wasn't disgusting. Her job _was not_ to make the floor sparkle or look pretty, despite what Vivieka liked to sneer at her.

Most nights she scrubbed the floor with a rag just to make the place presentable for the next day but once a week her and the other servants (whom were all elven, a fact that bothers Lena) waxed the floor on hand and knee. The Rose didn't open until well past noon and stayed open until before sunrise every day, except Sundays. Lord, or Andraste, have mercy on any Red Lantern District shop doing business on Sunday. The shame you would bring as the Chantry held sermon and Sisters and Brothers went walking around Hightown and Lowtown asking for donations to help those less fortunate in Lowtown.

Lena was caught off guard by one of them and pressured into paying a tithe until she grunted that she was not Andrastian to which the Sisters immediately hissed her new heathen status. They gave her the stink eye whenever she walked past the great glittering _golden_ steps and doors of the Chantry.

'Oh yes, because the Chantry definitely needed coin.' Lena rolled her eyes every time she met a new Chantry sister who wasn't yet familiar with her dead-eye stare and open contempt for the religion.

Being called a heathen was not an insult to her, it was a badge of honor. She was, is, an agnostic. A fact that back home was almost normal but here it hampered her sanity because she had no one to relate to or converse with. Almost everyone was Andrastian or had some faith, thus she was an outlier.

She did have one outlet for social interactions. Despite her lack of belief in the Stone, she found some semblance of belonging with her fellow dwarva. Or well, dwarf. Singular. Denier was the only dwarf prostitute in the entire Blooming Rose and the only dwarf who would even give her an ounce of respect. The dwarva of the Dwarva Enclave weren't too fond of her and her red arm band marking her as a Red Lantern District worker. Apparently it was considered dishonorable among the surface dwarva to partake in such a slanderous occupation. Bit hypocritical considering the massive amounts of Noble Hunters in Orzammar, but that was apparently different.

 _'_ A load of sodding nugshit.' Lena huffed through her off white mask as she cleared one section of the room.

Denier was a charmer but Denier was full of himself. The first time he saw her…

"Well, look what the stone decided to gift me. By the maker, you are gorgeous. I'd love to plunder your _deep roads_." He had tried that line on her and even got a pinch to her rear end. She decked him, or tried to. Lena was not a fighter and despite her transformation into a dwarf she did not gain any muscle strength she didn't already have. Plus she didn't know how to punch properly and promptly did more harm to herself than Denier.

She's not a prude. For Cosmos sake she went by the name of Madame in some circle of her friends back home. The humor was not lost on her. Madame Lena was working underneath Madam Luisine. Oh yes, she was tickled pink on that realization.

The first day she woke up she'd been summoned to Madam Luisine's office. She'd been frightened, scared and dreading the realization of what the hell happened to her body. All sorts of questions running through her head such as, How? Why? Why her? Dear cosmos, why the fuck her? Why did they, Rahmi and Daerin, have to pick her? These were all questions she had written about from the viewpoints of very fictional characters. Fictional original characters that she may or may not have based on herself and they ended up in the crack end of fucking Thedas. Yet here she was, in the same scenario that she dabbled in fanfiction _._ Lena was beyond tickled pink, she was darn right livid red.

It took two minutes upon waking to come to terms with the very idea that she was likely fucked. As a partaker in lucid dreaming and user of several recreational hallucinogenic pharmaceuticals, she knew when she was aware, awake, and herself. Likewise she knew when she was clearly tripping off her balls. It took those whole two minutes for her to know. One because she still had her working iPhone with the time. No signal or WiFi, not that she expected to have it. Two, her contacts were still on, which was surprising that they had not been transposed onto her eyelids by whatever magic had turned her into a dwarf. Instead she plopped them off and placed her glasses on and met the calculating gaze of Madam Lusine and the curious glance of the Coterie's bookkeeper and waitress, Viveka. For what Viveka lacked in sexual appeal she made up for with skill in numbers. Though if you asked Lena, the fact the girl had to use an abacus to count out coin and then jot it down on a large sheet of parchment, made her laugh. It was the sort of arithmetic she did in her head for fun.

Madam Lusine was completely unpainted and wearing the sorriest bland dress she'd ever seen, gave her a once over and promptly asked, "You, girl. How old are you? Are you a virgin?"

Once again, Lena was not a prude but being asked that after not being one for nearly a decade had her sputtering and blushing, her cheeks red.  She was flattered she looked that innocent.  Lena may be a dwarf now but compared to the other races of the fairer sex, she looked down right pampered. With full cheeks, relatively clean and free of scars, pale skin, and a lot more fat then should be prudent. She looked exactly like Athenril had called her, a Dwarf Noble from Orzammar; if she'd been a noble in Orzammar, chances are her maidenhead had been well protected. 

You couldn't blame Madam Lusine for her assumption.  If anything her assumption repaired Lena's recently trampled self-esteem due to now being barely four feet eight inches. Plus, it did give her an edge, one she wasn't going to partake in but if she ever changed her mind she had the option.

After Madame Lusiine began talking of numbers to how much Lena would fetch for her deflowering _,_  she had to interject and stop her right there. Despite the absurdly offended look Lusine gave her and the bewildered expression Viveka had, she told them, "No. I am not going to whore myself off for money. I'd rather be a normal servant."

Lusine laughed, her and Viveka sharing amused looks and snickering, until it sunk in that Lena was not laughing.  Lena wasn't trying to make a joke.  So negotiations began, begrudgingly.  She would work six nights a week for ten coppers a day. Room and board, including a poor excuse for meals, would cost her fifteen coppers a week. Her servants clothes would cost her an additional two silvers on top of her debt and shoes that fit, if she wanted them, would incur an additional five silvers.  

She did the math. Sixty coppers a week minus fifteen left her with forty-five. She would be damned if she'd go without any sort of fruits and sadly citrus fruits were rare but she'd shell out the two coppers for the bad ones if it meant she'd get vitamin C. Either way that left her with roughly forty coppers a week in earnings. If she immediately gave thirty of that back to Madam Lusine to pay off a debt that wasn't even fucking hers (if she ever finds Samson, she will string him up by his entrails), it would take her a year to save up to One Sovereign five silvers and some copper for change. It would take her fifteen years to pay off the debt and have enough to maybe bury herself once she keeled over. She was _fucked_. How the hell was she supposed to pay off a debt of fifteen sovereigns while finding a way back home?

She had a plan. Find a way back to the Emporium and see what Xenon knows about Books that transport you to alternate dimensions and completely ignore this bogus and unjust debt she got shackled with. At best, he knows what she's talking about and could help her in exchange for some sort of goods. She would gladly give up her iPhone to go back home. At worst, she was stuck here in this book-realm of Thedas in 9:26 Dragon. Assuming this was the same Thedas she knew and loved, but was slowly coming to hate, she was three years before the start of the Fifth Blight and at least three and a half from when Hawke makes their debut in Kirkwall.

Selena really hoped Xenon would be amenable to helping her because she did not want to be caught in Kirkwall when Hawke makes his or her way through here. The carnage, the chaos, and the absolute anarchy of mages and Templars. Both of which she had the lovely misfortune of experiencing and seeing.

Her first Templar sighting was not so soon after her first Chantry Sister sighting. Templars walking up the Chantry steps, the flaming sword insignia and skirts the only indicators to her. She almost squealed like a fangirl, until the very large swords and heavy shields came into view and she faltered. She stepped way back into the alley she had come from, giving Templars a wide berth.

Templars, and likewise Kirkwall Guards, were not meant to be messed with. Warriors were not meant to be trifled with. Rogues were definitely not meant to be fucked with. If you happen to spot a rogue, chances are they've stolen something from you. Every time Lena managed to catch sight of one, she ended up checking her coin purse to find it sliced open or with nearly all her coin gone. She learned the hard way to keep her purse in her breast band.

Mages turned out to be an enigma. They wielded magic; not in the wand waving, Accio Broom way with fancy sparkles and light shows but in the I can kill you with a thought kind yet refrain from doing it at any given moment. Gandalf wished he had magic like Thedosian mages did. Those were just the normal sort of mages, there were also the blood mages.

Her first blood mage happened to be one of the prostitutes, unsurprisingly by the name of Idunna. Lena cackled until she needed healing because Idunna was the one she was directed to. It was an encounter she did not want to repeat and made her warier of how sharp the knives were and how heavy the cast iron pots were.

* * *

**First Step: Find the Black Emporium.**

Simple enough, right? Unfortunately, Lena was a terrible navigator. Back on Earth she never went anywhere unless she was absolutely sure she knew how to get there; which meant someone else had driven her everywhere for the better part of her life until GPS came into her life. It was like the cosmos had gifted her with exploration. Here in Kirkwall, her phone (on top of having limited battery power) did not have WiFi so it did not have her beloved GPS. Smooth disjointed tones of Siri would not guide her through the alleys and streets of Kirkwall, much to her chagrin.

Lena had to retrace her steps. Problem, she had to remember the steps she took that first fateful moment in Kirkwall of which she does not remember. Not for lack of trying. She did venture out when she had enough of scrubbing, mopping, and the general mess of the Rose.

Kirkwall was not as easily laid out as the games made it out to be. She took one step down to Darktown or Lowtown and it was highwalls, never ending loops, dead ends, and corridors that made her fear for the likelihood of twin children being at the end of them and a tidal wave of blood (if you know Kirkwall, the likelihood of either these happening was fairly high). Kirkwall was officially her prison, her labyrinthine prison with no Goblin King to tease. Her only way out, as far as she could tell was the way she came in.

Or if she ever manages to find the docks. The faint smell of the ocean teased her from the rooftops, where she spent the early mornings soaking up as much sun as she could.  

Thus far, she knew the Red Lantern district fairly well, including all the twisting alleys and dead ends that somehow let her loop around the bathhouses and other shops into the Noble district. She knows how to get to the Chantry, the Merchants District, and the Viscount's Keep. And if she was feeling particularly brave, she knew a way into Lowtown. Well it was the major way, if the giant stairs of doom that scaled down the cliff that Hightown was situated ontop of.  

Suffice to say, Lena didn't venture out of Hightown much; not even to visit the rumored The Hanged Man that she so wanted to see at least once.

But back on point, find the Emporium. From what she remembered about the Black Emporium, you couldn't even get in without an invitation. A fact made clear by how Xenon had treated her. She did recall he said something about wards. If that wasn't bad enough, the only people Xenon ever invited in were famous people, as far as she knew anyway. People like Hawke, the Inquisitor, and Brother Genitivi. She had to somehow get an invitation, and given how he mistook her for Carta, it may be harder or easier than she thought.

"Lena!" Viveka's nasally voice called to her from the bar, Quintus handing the bookkeeper a plate of some delectable roast, bread, and grapes.

The food was not for her, it was for someone in one of the rooms. It was a late dinner for a patron, given it was almost an hour to sunrise. If it weren't for the slowly dwindling patrons and workers, she'd protest but the floor was manageable to a quick wipe in a few spots and then she could venture out into Hightown and attempt to find another way to Darktown without relying on the sewers that Athenril had traipsed her through weeks ago.

Once again, she huffed into her mask, yanking it up further as she trudged over to Viveka who all but shoved the plate and goblet into her hands and pointed up to the third floor. With her knees sore from kneeling, hands calloused and bright red from scrubbing, and back all a tremble, she made her way up.

It wasn't her job to deliver food to the rooms. Not that it stopped the prostitutes from sending her or the elven servants off with plates to be delivered to their earned rooms. The highest earners got their own rooms on the third floor and the owners and managers were up on the fourth. The second and ground floors were for general work and rooms. Servants, like her, bunked together.

The Blooming Rose was very unlike how it was presented in the game.

Ascending the stairs, she made it to Katriela's room. Katriela was one of the "premium" service prostitutes and a top earner. She was an ethereal looking elf who drew Templars, Nobles, and even dwarves to her chambers night after night. She'd seen the sovereigns exchanging hands with Madam Lusine and nearly gulped at the gold coins. It made her seriously consider selling her "virginity," if only she knew how much it would go for.

Katriela cracked open the door upon her knock and she gave a smile upon seeing her. A fake, plastered smile because all three of the top earners were catty bitches that deserved every STI they ever got. She yanked the plate out of her hands and the mug and slammed the door right in Lena's face, preventing her from getting a look at her customer or the room.

Not that she cared, but she had recognized quite a few patrons and frequent flyer mile customers, as she called them. There was Gamlen at the bar almost every night. Meeran and the Red Irons would pop in after a successful job. One late Monday morning Seneschal Bran visited Serendipity and then escorted out Katriela, Cora, and Sabina only for them to return the next night right before opening. It rose eyebrows but you wouldn't expect the Viscount to publicly visit a brothel, would you?

Lena made her way toward the stairs only for the door to open again and Katriela hissed at her, "Did I say for you to go. Empty this. Now." The elven lady of the night held out the bronze chamberpot, and let it slip enough when Lena went to grab it that the filth from it slopped onto her hands and down her apron.

Lena grit her teeth as Katriela snickered and once again slammed the door.

It wasn't her job, but you try telling Madam Lusine the rules of what job description means and be laughed at and ordered to do something or be kicked out.

This was what the mask was for as well. It stopped the _smell_ of the pot from getting to her. Holding the chamberpot aloft she made her way to the singular room in the entire Blooming Rose she would rather not have to enter. It was the water closet, but it was also a toilet. Not in the sense, Selena knew, but in the sense that there was a long chute that led to the sewers. A chute she emptied all the chamberpots into on a daily basis.  The smell... dear cosmos the  _smell._ The first time she had to empty chamberpots, she gagged and threw up.  Somehow, vomit made it a bit bearable until she demanded a thick cloth to cover her face, between the folds of the cloth she put leaves of elfroot so she always had a minty smell no matter what task she was doing. 

Once the pot was dumped and she pumped up enough frigid water, because eureka Kirkwall had water pumps in their homes (or at least Hightown establishments near a bathhouse) to scrap off the feces off her hands and scrubbed at them with the bar of soap she carried with her everywhere, and managed to rinse her apron, she ventured back.

The door was ajar. The only sounds being those that came from downstairs.

Knocking lightly, she pushed the door open and walked in. The room itself was richly decorated, richly to her because she shared a single bunk with one of the other servants. She didn't even have a room. Katriela's room had a four poster _queen_ sized bed with a cushioned mattress, probably filled with feathers and several red sheets for warmth. There were lush curtains lining the windows, an Antivan rug before the fireplaces- hearth and a loveseat with a coffee table. There was a single wardrobe off to one corner where a half-naked man was pulling on a tunic.

A very delicious looking half-naked man, if Lena said so herself.

He was built in ways she'd never seen before except in movies about archers.  His arms rippled with hard defined muscles suggesting he not only worked out, but alsolifted _._   His back was a stretch of tense muscle definition that moved as he yanked the tunic overhead and pulled it down covering himself.  

 _Awww._  Lena bemoaned the loss of eye candy. 

He had mussed reddish brown hair that he slicked back.  He turned and froze upon seeing her. His cerulean eyes were at first guilty, like he'd been caught doing something naughty (and indeed he had been if the smell was any indication). His gaze flicked to the door that she had subconsciously closed behind her.

Lena knew this guy. She knew him, he was familiar. She just wasn't one hundred percent sure.

"If you would hand me my cloak." He asked once he took a deep breath to collect himself. 

'Scottish brogue.'

Selena numbly handed the cloak to him and stared as he drew it around him.  He nodded his thanks before slipping out of the room while yanking his own scarf over his face, concealing who he was.

She stood in Katriela's room until the whore was yelling at her to get her filthy feet out. That man, that specific customer was darn right princely if only he'd been armored in white with an Andraste belt buckle. But she wasn't sure. He could just _look_ like who she thought it was but, given how many others she'd recognized thus far… it was unlikely.

* * *

The Royal Archer came to the Rose the same time every week but never lay with same prostitute in a row.  He even took to the male prostitutes, a fact that left her sputtering every time Lena caught the familiar brown cloak and those eyes. Cosmos, she could get lost in them, if only he'd look her way for more than a cursory glance.

She might have been slightly obsessed with catching another glimpse of him. Watching for his presence every Monday morning right before closing. He came in through the alley entrance and came in about an hour only to leave from the front door, concealed and bundled up in his cloak.

The only day he didn't come was during the festivities of All Soul's Day. A holiday Lena didn't particularly understand but equated it to Halloween and the Day of the Dead.

The Monday after All Soul's Day he came rushing in, late. Lena had been ready to lock up the alley doors when he pushed in. His body clipping her. The Starkhaven archer recoiled at her presence but brushed past her.

"You could say you're sorry." She grumbled, recognizing the familiar brown cloak and flash of blue eyes and tanned skin. "Stupid prince."

It'd been a slip. She hadn't meant for him to find out she knew who he was but it came out.  He about faced instantly.

"I'm sorry. You must have me confused for someone else. Say that again" His voice took on a lower threatening tenor. At her snort she found herself pressed against the door with her feet dangling in the air and a dagger to her throat. Her hand gripped at his forearms, clenching around thick layers of tense and flexed muscles. 

This was familiar.

"No… pretty sure I know who you are." She snarked. 'Stupid _.'_ "Prince Sebastian Vael… Brother of the Chantry. Won't Elthina be proud to know where you've been." She couldn't help her sing songy tone. After weeks of speaking only to Denier, a grunt or two from the other servants, and being ordered around by Viveka and Lusine, she did a stupid. A very bad verbal stupid especially as the dagger pressed closer.

Speaking of.

"Lena!" Lusine's voice called, ready to yell at her for taking so long to shut the doors.

Sebastian, who'd been floored at her words, backed off her the moment Madam Lusine made her appearance in the hallway. Her painted face pinched as she analyzed the situation. "Messere, I'm sorry we're closed for the night."

"Surely you can accommodate me." The rogue with a brogue turned to Lusine, ignoring Lena.

"Oh, it's you!" Lusine's voice became impossibly high and sweetened.  A sign Lena knew to watch for, because it meant the high payers were present.  "Unfortunately my ladies and gents have all retired for the morning. Perhaps next week, Messere?" Lusine looked regretful but she wouldn't budge on this.  Lena gave the old woman props, she always made sure girls and boys were allowed to rest and she did  _not_ make exceptions.  

"What about her?" Sebastian gestured to Lena, eyes alight with a hunger and intent that made her very nervous given their exchange just moments ago.

'Did he just- with me? **No**.' Lena's brain short circuited.

Lusine was unfazed and only gave Lena a quick glance as any indication that knew what Sebastian was talking about. "I'm afraid, she would cost nearly double what you pay. She is after all a lady dwarf. A rarity, indeed."

"Double? Just because she's a dwarf?" Sebastian countered back.

"A virgin as well." Lusine added with a sly grin. Lena could just see the gold coins in her future if she agreed to this.  It's Sebastian Vael.  Even in the games you couldn't even so much as  _kiss_ him and he wanted to fuck her?  Well not really considering he probably wanted to know what she knew.   With the promise of coins she nearly agreed to being "deflowered" until she remember she had specified that she would not be making money that way.  Lena had to stick to convictions, at least on this.  

"HEY!" Lena yelped. "I told you I'm not selling that!" Even if it was a lie, still. She was _right_ there. The least the Madam could do was ask for her consent rather than scheme to sell her virginity right in front of her. Especially now that she had first hand experience to how dangerous Sebastian could be if you crossed him. 

The virgin remark made Sebastian very still.  He was squinting at her in what she could only guess was disbelief, before he nodded. "I see. Then I shall take my leave.  Until next week, Madam."  His voice lowered and he turned. His gaze met hers and briefly he flashed his daggers. Lena understood what he meant by that. Talk and expect another encounter with it.

Daggers were not her friends. Twice now she'd had a dagger to her throat. The first time she'd been scared, the second… well she might have been distracted by those guns of his. She could still feel the flexing of muscles and twitching of nerves under her fingers. She gave a low hum of approval as she locked the door.

"You should consider allowing me to auction the right to deflower you." Lusine interjected as she handed her the sixty coppers for the week, once the showroom was cleaned. Forty-five of those coppers were immediately handed back to Lusiine and Viveka sneered as she had to deduct the forty-five coppers off her debt count.

"I'd rather not."

"You'd fetch a high price you know. Especially with your looks." Lusine touched Selena's cheeks, angling her head to and fro and tutting. "A bit of kohl and blush and you'd attract all sorts."  Lena let her, if only to humor her.  

"No thank you." Lena grit her teeth.

"Well at this rate you'll never pay off your debt." Lusine snapped at her and waved her off.

She'd considered it, Lena just didn't want to pay off her debt on her back. She firmly believes in having sex for pleasure and not for work. Even if prostitution was the eldest occupation.

Lena slumped into her bunk, pulling her suitcase from underneath. No one had really tried to open it, believing it some odd dwarf contraption. Who was she to correct them? She slipped her coin into her purse and pulled her phone out. She knew how much battery it had. Twenty-seven percent, and she blamed her stupidity for it. She'd spent the first few days burning through it by listening to music. At least her iPad fared better considering it was built to last a long time with no use. Though she did turn it on a few times, it was beginning to dwindle down toward fifty percent and that scared her.

Checking to make sure the other servants were asleep, she pulled her headphones on and listened to one song, if only to remind herself that she was not going insane. That she was in Thedas and she did not belong here. Turning it off and locking it up in her nearly empty suitcase.

She'd sold most of her "fancier" and colorful clothes for a bit of extra silver. Her cheap and synthetic clothes had fetched her a lot. But she would not get rid of her denim, knowing even with the extra length of them they would come in handy during the colder months that were approaching. If she even stayed that long. She was hoping she wouldn't be here come winter. Grim hopes indeed.

Lena needed a strategy. No, what she needed was a guide to Darktown. Someone who knew Kirkwall better than she. Someone who'd traversed the streets every night. But who?


	4. Roguish Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena is an incredibly thirsty dwarf, unfortunately her Charisma skill is fairly low.

Athenril was the answer.  It didn’t come to her right away.  Heck, it didn’t even come to her until she spotted the elven coterie agent sneaking into the Rose and catching her mid-tryst with Cora. The two of them pressed into an alcove, rutting and gasping their pleasures in between shushes and giggles.

Sue her, Lena listened intently.  You’d think she’d be used to hearing the sounds of fucking.  The slap of flesh on flesh, moans, gasps and the faint heady scent wafting to her.  She works in a brothel for fuck’s sake, she should be used to it.  But there is a difference between fucking, having sex, and making love.   So when she listened intently, it was because the level of passion Athenril and Cora displayed was downright pornographic and heartwarming.  It was a refreshing change of pace.  

Lets just say Lena was going to go out of her way to find some alone time, someway somehow, and reflect on the noises she overheard. Taarsidath-an halsaam _,_ indeed.

However, approaching Athenril right then for help was not an option as she swears she was a paid slave given how quickly Lusine demanded her to do things.  She almost felt like the little princess.  If only she had an attic room, then she'd be glad to do everything the Madam asked of her, only to retire to her imaginative machinations.  Sadly, that wasn't her reality.

The chance to ask came Tuesday morning just after closing.  Lena was exhausted.  The Sharps had been in and instead of pursuing of the wares, they had instead opted for the best wine and ale the house had in celebration of some job.  She didn't know and she didn't fucking care.  She did however care when they drank until they pissed themselves because that meant less splash back on the chamber pots and less cleaning she had to do as it was in their trousers. But their celebrations meant Lena was dragged to the cellars and helped Quintus carry up the wine.  

Remember, Lena had zero muscle definition and came from a world where if things were too heavy, you got a forklift or a reasonably able bodied young man.  Thedas didn't have that.  Well they had many able bodied men but Quintus was already hoisting up the other cask.

The cask had dropped from her grip because, let's face it, Lena was a weakling and it had been slipping the moment she began climbing up the stairs.  With a faintly whimpered "I can make it, I can make it" she tried to go up.  It slipped from her grasp and while she tried to grab it again, it fell off the stairs sideways and crashed open below.  Quintus had been right behind her with his arms full and gave a low whistle while he bustled past her up the stairs.

"That's going to cost ya." He mumbled to her.

She was only so lucky she'd been carrying up a cask of relatively cheap ale.  Had she been carrying the good stuff... she would be crying. In other news she now had an additional sovereign tacked onto her debt, bringing it to a total of sixteen sovereigns and twelve silvers.  

Bursting out the alley entrance of the Rose twenty minutes after Lusine called for Viveka to add the sovereign to her debt, she grumbled curses in every language she knew and partially knew.  Spanish, French, Japanese, Chinese, heck even some Tevene and Qunlat.

There were patrons of the bathhouse, aptly named "The Powder Room," slipping from their back entrance in the alley, side eyeing her as they slipped into the Rose freshly cleaned with flushed faces.  Their intent evident by their expressions and loose trousers. Some of them gaped at the stream of curses coming from her, before disappearing into the Rose.  None of them stopped to ask her if she was alright.

She’d never been inside the bathhouse.  Five weeks in Thedas and she hadn't bathed.  That’s not saying she hadn’t cleaned herself.  She's kept up maintenance on her crotch, pits, and face and hair as well as washed her hands every chance she got because hygiene on Thedas was atrocious. She only just tried not to think about how much germs she ingested when she ate whatever the Rose's cook, Pippa, made.  The bathhouse cost money to use.  Precious coins that she was not going to give up.  

Tonight though, she could use it.  She'd already forfeited her night's wages once she walked out. What’s a few more coppers?

Yanking her apron off, she slipped back into the Rose and grabbed a change of clothes as well as all her dirty clothes. She dropped them off at the laundress for five coppers.  A steal of a price but one she got because she reported when the eldest son, Johan, would try to sneak into the Rose.  

Entering the Powder Room, she dropped the ten coppers into the waiting hands of the elderly woman at the door and walked in.  She happily rushed to the  ladies side and chucked her clothes off.  There were private bathing chambers with hot water for those who paid a few silvers more, but Lena was not made of money. The group baths were barely lukewarm, having been heated up every few hours.  

Avoiding the shiny metals that were makeshift mirrors in one corner, real mirrors were very expensive, she climbed into the large wooden tub.   With a withering glower at her leg hair, she hid them from view under the water.  

Lena had already spent one evening examining her body and it was definitely hers.  Yes, she’d entertained the idea that she had been shoved into someone else’s body in some body-snatching horror story.  Thankfully, that wasn’t the case because she had every scar, birthmark, and peculiarity she remembered having back home only now it was in a much smaller denser package.  She’d been transformed into a dwarf and did not like being reminded of it anymore than her having to crane her neck up to look at everyone, so she avoided reflective surfaces.  

With her bundle of clothes down on the ledge, she submerged herself in the warm soapy water not yet wanting to sit down.  She wadded in the warm water for all of two seconds when a certain elf popped up behind her.

"Fancy seeing you here." Athenril crooned into her ear.  Lena yelped, her voice echoing in the tiled chamber, other bathers looked her way and paused in their conversations to give her a cursory glance.

“Athenril!”  She hissed and eyed the elf who lounged back against the seats with a pleased grin, shoulders shaking with contained laughter.  Lena had a scold on the tip of her tongue but stopped.  In truth she hadn’t spoken to the elf once since she was dropped off at the Rose but she had seen her walking the streets and alleys of Hightown, ducking and weaving guards while dropping off packages and threatening folks.  

Athenril was bare of all her clothes, armor and even her hair was down.  The intricate blue tattoos Lena had caught a glimpse of stretched up her arm, over her shoulders, to her back and down her chest.  It swirled up and out, all around her arm and ended in stylized flowers.  You wouldn’t have guessed they were so girlish given how Athenril holds herself.

“How’s servant life… Lena, was it?”  Athenril stretched her arms up, her breasts rising out of the water.  

It wasn’t her fault Lena’s gaze naturally gravitated toward them.  Boobs were a magical part of the female anatomy and thus she appreciated all kinds.  For instance, Athenril’s were small, she’d say less than an A cup but they were taut against her frame.  A messy jagged scar along the right side of her chest partially marred the dark areola and nipple but it gave them character.  They were not soft or bouncy, in fact they were as defined as the hardened body that carried them.  

It did not make the desire to lick each nipple and suck on them any less, especially remembering the gasping moans Athenril could produce.  

“Was it Lita?”  Athenril mused, a single brow quirked up.

“What… no no it was Lena sorry I uh-”  She was blushing, and she couldn’t even blame it on the hot water because the water wasn’t even that warm.

“Enjoying the view?” Athenril deadpanned, a harsh glare sent Lena’s way, but she didn’t cover up. “Haven’t seen enough bosoms working in the Rose?”

This is true.  She’d seen the breasts of every woman working in the Rose at least once by now.  Either by accidentally seeing them naked when she delivered food or had to clean up a mess all over the floor and the workers were still in states of undress, she’d seen them all.  Perky, bouncy, sagging, puckered, innies and outies.  You name it, she’s seen them.  Idunna,  Katreila, Lusine, Viveka, Cora, Sabina… she’s seen them all.  She’s also seen the cock and balls of all the males but that’s another story.  The weekly “shaving” of the girls and gents had made her miss the ease and use of nair cream products to keep her bits from becoming a fire hazard, as she used to call it.  Now though, sadly she had a fire hazard herself.

“Breasts are different from woman to woman.  Yours are especially beautiful.”  Lena muttered confidently.  Somehow this caught Athenril off guard and made her flush.  She looked away, her hair drawn to cover her cheeks and hand covering her mouth.

Was Athenril self-conscious of the scar?  Lena narrowed her eyes and considered her options.  Back home, this would be easy.  She could be forward and ask for permission, but if she offended people from home they were not likely to pull out a dagger and cut her. As she’s learned, daggers are not her friends.  

“May I touch them?” Lena dropped her voice a tad, and spoke as though she lost her breath with a sly smile. The red flush bloomed all across Athenril’s face, down to her lovely chest and even reached the tips of her ears, which were now pointing up out of her hair and twitching.

Was twitching a bad sign? She really hoped it wasn’t.

“I… you… you what?”  Athenril whispered, sinking into the water and looking around them suspiciously, particularly at the other patrons.

“I guess that’s a no.” Lena casually waded to her own seat a few feet from Athenril and began scrubbing her body thoroughly, getting rid of weeks of sweat, oil, dirt and grease with the thin bar of soap.  She’d have to buy another one soon but that’d be another five coppers gone.  It almost seems cheaper to just make her own soap but it’s a long process.  

Ducking into the water, she rinsed off and climbed out.  Athenril had already disappeared after her rather forward request.  Great.  She probably offended the coterie rogue.  

Dressing, she walked out the back entrance of the Powder Room into the autumn rain that was now pelting the streets of Kirkwall.  If she’d known it was going to rain, she wouldn’t have bothered paying to bath and instead have stood on the rooftops showering under the cloudy dark skies.  So what if the rain was a bit cold, it would have been cheaper.  

Sighing, she slipped back into the Rose. Today was just a day of wasted coppers and wasted opportunities.

* * *

Sunday as usual meant the Rose was closed, or else the wrath of pious and hypocritical Chantry clerics would reign on them.  Lena has just finished waxing the floors and it was still light out and so she ventured out on a few errands, including to pick up Lusine’s favorite soap that had run out.  The Madam wanted to head to the bathhouse before she visited the Chantry.  It was expected of her as the proprietor of the Rose, even if the sisters and nobles sent her dirty looks.  Lena had seen them and frankly they were hypocritical as their husbands, sons, and brothers all partook of the Rose’s wares.

There were Chantry sisters bustling about trying to make the Red Lantern workers guilty, but she ignored them.  Or… she would have if a certain royal archer wasn’t avoiding the Red Lantern District specifically.  She spotted him in initiate cleric robes, which raised her brows.  

Initiate robes… He hadn’t yet taken his vows.  

She almost expected Grand Cleric Elthina to be next to him. Instead she found an elderly brother and a few Sisters.  They were reading from the Chant in the merchant square, taking turns reading and nodding along and advertising the service in a few hours as well as confessions.

Lena probably had a death wish because suddenly she had a desire to express religious conversion and confess some dirty filthy sins, but only if a certain archer was tending to the confessions.

Dashing off to the Rose she dropped off the soaps and splashed her face, waking herself up.  Normally she would be asleep by now but things had to be purchased.

When she walked into the Chantry she had to take a moment to catch her breath.  It was large and beautiful.  Stained glass depictions of Andraste sent tinted light only to be cleared by the hordes of candles.  The main hall itself had many worshipers sitting in the birch wood pews or kneeling by the stone altars with statues of Andraste with a bowl of fire.  The architecture itself was made of marble, tiny crenelations giving the balcony depth and beauty, the arches tying the balcony together with the main floor.  There were two stairwells that lead to the main stage or podium where the Grand Cleric would give her sermon.  

Lena felt completely out of place and like she’d be smote any minute now for even stepping foot in here.   

“Changed your mind did you?” A rather vicious voice hissed her way and Lena eyed the human, squinting.  It was the one who had called her a heathen. Her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun and her eyes accentuated by dark smudges.  It created sharp edges and made her look that much more tense and mean. “The Maker accepts all his children, even those who rejected him prior.”

“Right...thanks…”  She muttered, side stepping around that particular sister and shuffling into the Chantry.  It was still very early and from what she knows about the patrons who complained, the nobles usually had their service early and then the rest of Kirkwall could come and visit the Chantry for the late day chants.  Given the still lingering nobles, she'd guess she caught it right on the tail end.  

She spied a few dwarves in the pews, all grouped up on one side.  Occasionally a human would stop by and speak with them before progressing to another seat.  Aside from the surprising realization that there was dwarves here at all, their segregation was disconcerting. 

She shook her head and slid in the back pew by her fellow vertically challenged folks.  There's a sentence she thought she'd never use.  She didn't feel quite so short with them even if some of them were taller than her by a few inches.  

"Well well, and here I thought you weren't Andrastian."  Denier slid into the pew next to her.

"By the stone, Denier did you follow me?" She snapped lowly under her breath, wary of the dirty looks that were sent Denier's way.

"By the stone?  Since when were you a believer of the old religion... and here in the Chantry?"  Denier threw his arm over her shoulders.  Lena tried to shy away from him.  

"It's an expression. Just words..." Lena grumbled.

"Better not let the Kalnas hear you say that."

"The what?" Lena hissed as more dwarves slid next to them and she was forced to slide all the way down the pew until she was squished between Denier and one hooded dwarf next to her who regarded her with a bemused look.  She didn't get much of a look at him, wanting instead to hide away before the other dwarves recognized who she was and made her leave or something.  

"You really are new to the surface.  Here I thought Lusine was joking.'" Denier tutted and began explaining surface dwarven politics. Kalnas wanted to maintain caste and rank from Orzammar, to which Denier and her both rolled their eyes at that. Kalnas typically were those from respected castes and nobles, so of course they wanted to retain the prestige they had in Orzammar.  Ascendants, on the other hand, wanted to leave Orzammar traditions behind and embrace surface life.  You can guess that most ascendants were from less than prestigious castes and ranks, many of which were casteless.  There were of course some exiled nobles who wanted nothing to do with the castes, but they were rare and far between.  

"Just how do you even know this?"  Lena knew all this from the games of course but appreciated the reminder and thus filed it away.  Perhaps she could concoct some type of background for herself.  Eventually someone was going to ask and she could only coast on by with the assumptions people made about her appearance.  She was sure many of the dwarves around her would know she was not in fact from a Noble house of Orzammar.  She needed a cover story.  

Denier pressed close and whispered in her ear.  "Oh... it's because I'm the disgraced son of House Harrowmont."

"Harrowmont?”  Lena regarded him. Had House Harrowmont had other children besides Renvil, Baizyl, and Harvel?  She couldn't remember much else about House Harrowmont aside from it being one of the oldest noble houses.  "...as in the advisor to the King of Orzammar?  Head of the House being Pyral?"  Lena asked, eyes narrowed.  "You're fucking with me."

Denier pulled back, mouth open in offense and he glared.  "No, it's true.  Exiled in my youth because I wouldn't marry the Princess Aeducan-"

The dwarf next to Lena burst into laughter, startling her. She jumped in her seat and gave a small yelp.  Denier leveled a terse glare his way for all of twenty seconds before he was sputtering with laughter.  

"Andraste's ass, Denier. Don't yank on her leg too much." A faintly familiar voice came chuckling from the hooded dwarf beside her.  

“I couldn’t keep it up for much longer, anyway.”  Denier snorted and clapped a hand on Lena’s shoulders.  “Lena, I’d like to introduce you to-”

“Varric Tethras.”  The hooded dwarf held his hand out to her.  

Lena’s stomach gave a flip flop hearing the name, the connection between voice, name, and now face as he drew his hood down and sent her that signature smirk and wink.  It made her toes curl pleasantly and she felt a giggle bubble up in her but she squashed it down. _'_ Be cool. Okay, be cool, you’re totally not meeting your self-proclaimed spirit animal.' She gave a somewhat crooked smile his way and shook his hand, silently vowing she’d never again wash that hand.

“Le-” Her voice squeaked with a cringe. She cleared her throat. “Selena River, but Lena is fine.” She thought she managed to save herself, but the way Varric’s brows furrowed just then made her stomach sink. 'Great, now he thinks I’m a twit.'   

Varric poised the silent question. “You must be new to Kirkwall.”

“U-uh yes.  I am.“ She floundered, staring at Varric.  His blonde hair swept back into a ponytail, the tell tale gold earrings and she spied his bare chest hair.  Her fingers itched to run through it. Despite what the games and books said, he did have a bit of peach fuzz on his jaw, not nearly enough to constitute as a beard though. It was enough scruff that she wanted to rub her face against it…or her tits.  

Varric’s scruff rubbed on her tits. 'Yes, please.'

“Barely, she’s been here a month already?” Denier

“Five weeks, three days.” Lena automatically corrected, knowing the exact amount of time since her arrival.  Most in her situation would immediately think how worried their family and friends back home would be… not her.  Her family and friends wouldn’t be the least bit worried as Lena tended to disappear for months on end with no contact with any of them while she worked on a new project.  If it weren’t for the fact that they knew she loved to eat, they would probably worry she wouldn’t eat enough but she did.  In spades if her chunky form was any indication.  A chunky form that was now denser in her new shorter stature. **Sigh** _._

“I didn’t exactly have a choice in whether I could stay or go.”  Lena muttered once she saw Varric’s questioning look.  She almost wanted to spill and say she was being held against her will and made to pay off a bogus debt, but he had no ties to her.  He had zero loyalty to her.  The thousands of hours spent play Dragon Age 2 and Inquisition did not equal a friendship, no matter how many times she actively elected to bring Varric along to hear his party banter.  Even if it did… none of that had yet happened.  It was years before his meeting Hawke, a whole decade plus before Inquisition.  She was in uncharted territory.  

“Kirkwall not sitting well with you?”

She gave a dark chuckle, refusing to ever giggle in the presence of Varric Tethras.  “You could say that.”

“Lena’s just sour. Lusine’s working her down to the bone.” Denier explained sympathetically, pulling her close again.  She just caught the waggling of his brows.  

“I-... I don’t… I work in the Rose yes, but not like Denier.”  Her cheeks flushed.  She did not want Varric Tethras thinking she was a prostitute… although.  Did Varric ever partake in Lusine's wares? Would he ever?  

He probably would.  

Her brain had a mini aneurysm at that.

“Really now?  Didn’t know Lusine managed to find a fairer sex of the dwarva for her collection.” Varric stroked his chin and gave her an appreciative look.

Lena might have drooled a little at his response. Her hand twitched and her entire right side burned by being so close to Varric Tethras. If only they were touching.  She was sure to be made of lava and bursting with steam at the ideas running through her.  All fueled by that look the rogue had to give her.

She needed a bath.  And a good long lay. Preferably with a certain dwarf and elven coterie agent.  

Lena didn’t get to respond back because the hall grew silent as one of the clerics began the sermon.  Honestly, she didn’t pay attention. She was more concerned with her inner battle as she looked down between Varric and her. Their hands were inches apart.  Her fingers twitched toward his.

How forward would it be to grab his hand?  How forward would it be to intertwine their fingers together like the silly goose that she was?  More importantly how forward would it be to slip her hand on his thigh and grip the muscles she knew to be there, because Varric Tethras lifts.  Probably too forward for Thedas.  Way too forward.  

She gave a soft sigh and pressed her hands to her lap. 'Be cool, you thirsty fool.' She admonished herself over and over, completely missing the sermon.  

Denier’s arm was over her shoulders again and dragging her further into Hightown.  She would have drawn away if she wasn’t used to it.  When they weren’t working, and she wasn’t actively getting lost in Kirkwall due to her searching, they were both on the show floor drinking ale and playing cards.  Somehow, Denier got it in his head that it was okay to touch her like this.  

It was not.  

She was uncomfortable with this level of contact at this frequency but she rather not punch him again and break her fingers.  Once in awhile would be fine, but every day was nauseating.

Instead of heading back toward the Blooming Rose, Denier lead her elsewhere, following the small procession of dwarva toward the Dwarven Enclave.  Red flags waved and alarm bells clanged in her head.  She wasn’t allowed here.  If the looks the dwarva had given was any indication all those times.

Strangely though, today no one shot her a look, even though she was still wearing the red band on her arm that signified she worked in the Red Lantern District.  She probably should have removed that before going to the Chantry.  Stealthily, she undid the band and slipped it into her breast band, far from sight.  Just to be safe.

“Where are we going?” She wanted to whisper but she caught sight of the large statues of the fake paragons and passed into one of the buildings.  Lena could not read any of the inscriptions.  Not for lack of trying but she wasn’t wearing her glasses.  After her first two days she had deemed wearing them as a risk because it drew too much attention and the danger of breaking them was all too high given the nature of her work.

Besides she wasn’t reading anything except road signs in Hightown, which were handwritten signs in Common and Orlesian.  She thanked her mother for the broken Spanish she spoke and read and the two years of Italian she took in high school.  The Latin based languages were not too different and she could pick apart the Orlesian.  Common however was not completely foreign, if structured oddly.  It was like English on crack… as if the English language wasn’t already on crack.

The hall she stepped into was, by what she gathered, a guild hall with four tables, two on each side with one main table on a stage at the head of the hall like this was Hogwarts and she was walking into the Great Hall.  Was she about to be sorted into a Dwarven House?  For all she knew, this could be just that.  Was she being inducted into a secret Dwarva cult?  The only people around here were dwarves… so maybe?

Oh… no she spoke too soon.  There were a few elves and humans about but that was about it. The room was mostly filled with the dwarva.  

She followed the person in front of her, who happened to be Varric.  

'Not intentional at all.'

She noticed something then, watching Varric's behind.  Or rather she noticed a lack of something.  Something very integral to Varric was missing.  It felt wrong.

Where in the void was Bianca?

Her eye twitched as she eyed his empty back.  He had no crossbow there.  Not even hidden underneath his jacket.  He wasn't even carrying it.  She did however spot a collection of daggers at his belt which brought a fresh wave of panic and glee.  Every time she notices daggers, certain things happen to her.

 _'_ Yes, Varric please hold me against the wall with a dagger to my throat.  Let me feel those arms of yours, let our chests press close and let me bury my face in your manly chest hair,'  her sunk with the absence of Bianca.  She wasn't as giddy.

Meeting Varric without Bianca was like meeting Batman without Nightwing.  It was great, but you just wished Jason Todd was there to flirt with.  It was the second most disappointing moment in her life now.  The first being her first sexual encounter, but she rather not think about that disaster.

The entire meeting with Varric felt less than stellar. She sighed as she sat down at the table Varric and Denier were sitting at.  

The tables which were laden with plates upon plates of food.  She started. Was she allowed here?  Was she supposed to pay to get in here?  Nervous, she eyed her two companions who both gave her confused looks.

Lena was one second away from asking before a chuckle to her left answered her. “Women, sit over there, little lady.”  The deeply grumbled tones of one Bartrand Tethras told her.  

She knew it was Bartrand because Varric greeted him, albeit begrudgingly and with a roll of his eyes.

“S-sorr- **y**.” She faced the elder Tethras who took a step back upon seeing her. "Didn't know segregation of the sexes was a thing here."  She snapped at him.

There seemed to be segregation in a lot of places in Kirkwall.  By the classes, race, and now even gender.  She didn't like it and she wouldn't abide by it, even if she had to stare down King Endrin.  Or in this case, the most popular dwarf in Kirkwall dwarva society, as was the case.

"She's a stubborn one, Barty." Denier pipped up with a chuckle, and yanked her back down into the seat, this time next to him but once again squished between Varric and himself.  She was going to have a stroke being this close to the storyteller.

Bartrand grumbled but sat further down the table around a group who immediately began questioning him about his next party and whether his engagement to Lady Dace was yet finalized.

As it turned out, the guild hall they had all congregated in was filled because the dwarva met once a month to catch up on gossip and to have a decent meal, far away from the humans.  Typically the Kalnas and Ascendants of the Merchants Guild of the city arranged it and so all dwarves were invited.  Occasionally an elf or a human was allowed via invitation but not very often.  There was drink, music, gossip, dancing and laughter.  

All of which was fine and dandy but Lena stuffed herself full with the assortment of food before her. Five weeks and she's coasted on by with thin meat stew, bread, cheese, and the occasional soft grapes and bruised apples and once, she came across some oranges which she inhaled.  She still had the peel in her suitcase to enjoy the smell of it.  But now... she had a full on meal. Her mouth watered, even as she loaded up her plate a second and third time and no one batted an eye.

There was braised ram ribs, roasted chicken, stuffed nug, deep mushroom pie.  Roasted turnips garlic and celery.  Lentils and peas, carrots in a buttery glaze. There was apple cider, peach cider, and something that tasted suspiciously like pumpkin cider.  There was an assortment of wine, and far too many kinds of dwarven ale that she decided to taste every single type in a small cup, until Denier filled a goblet for her and shoved it her way.

She felt tipsy after one goblet.  It'd been years since she could actually get a buzz on normal alcoholic beverages but Dwarven ale sent her tittering in her seat.  Denier drank in excess with her, the two of them paying no mind to how Varric refrained from keeping up with them, instead he watched them amused over the rim of his solitary goblet.

A few other dwarves joined them, all male who looked amused at Lena's presence.  A minstrel picked up a jaunty tune that had dwarves asking ladies to dance, a raucous boom of laughter of activity filled the hall.

She was on her seventh goblet of ale and hadn't gotten up, despite Denier asking her to dance. Based on how she was rocking while sitting, dancing didn't seem like a great idea with her two left feet.  So she clung to Varric's side who snickered at her.

"You're really very pretty, Varric."  She tried to say but it came out more like "I'd sit on your face."  Someone howled next to her and banged on the table.  Was it at her expense?  She wasn't sure, she just knew that Varric was chuckling and trying to pull something from his jacket.  Her fingers ran up and down the leather of his jacket, jealous of the quality.

Varric hummed. "Would you now? I've been told I'm quite the charmer but I never had any woman just throw themselves at me like this."

"Must be the chest hair."  Lena angled her head down and reached a hand where Varric let her pet it and she giggled, face red.  "It's magical... I can't help it."  

"I'm afraid it's just a well kept mane."

"Hmmm dwarven magic's a thing though.  Wouldn't be surprised."  She mumbled laying her head on his shoulder. "Your magic is in your words.  Weaving tales and painting mental pictures.  Varric the artiste.  I have so much to learn..." Lena sighed.  

"Didn't peg you for a fan-"

"Tch... course I am.  Varric, rogue, storyteller and unwelcome tagalong." Lena mumbled. "S'too bad Bianca isn't around... then it'd be a real party." She gave him a grin even as he tensed. "Magnificent crossbow..."  Lena sighed.

"What do you know about crossbows?" Varric drew her closer, arm tightening around her shoulders.  

Sipping her water slowly, she regarded him. "Not much...Not a smith." She hiccuped and covered her mouth as she giggled.

"How about we take this somewhere a little more private." Varric helped her up.

"What... oh. **Oh** _._ Master Tethras... I may work in the Rose but I'm not a whore." Lena wagged her finger at him as he led her out of the guild hall and into the late afternoon light.

"Never said you were."  He sounded amused.

"But you know... I think I'd make an exception just for you.  Free to boot... can I pet your chest again?" She babbled and Varric laughed.

"Sure thing." Varric murmured said into her ear. She shuddered and grinned, suddenly excited to get to this _somewhere private_ he was leading her toward.

Unfortunately for her, being awake for a solid twenty four hours in addition to the amount of ale in her, left her half asleep by the time Varric led her wherever he did.  She barely registered a wooden man hanging upside down and the fact she had needed his help climbing down and up stairs.  After that, she really couldn’t tell you what happened.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have to admit, I am having fun writing this. Let me know what you guys think! is it good? Is it funny?


	5. Dangerous Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena rerolls her Charisma for _private encounters_. She used Flirt on Varric Tethras, it was SUPER EFFECTIVE.

Lena roused with no pang of a hangover, unsurprising to her. She’s never woken to one because she was taught to always intersperse your alcoholic poison consumption with plenty of water. Instead she had the pleasure of waking to the urge to urinate a waterfall, which sent her stumbling out of the most comfortable bed in Thedas (to her knowledge).  

It was a bed fit for a dwarven king on the softest mattress she’s slept on since before her fateful tumble through a book.  The soft sheets that covered her were warmer than the thin sheets she normally slept under and huddled into a ball to conserve heat. Lena stumbled out from under the cocoon of warmth with reluctance, but she pushed herself. She did not want to lose control of her bladder on them.  Her legs floundered under her and once again she was unused to how short she was.  Her cheek met the wooden floor promping a groan.  The sudden force of gravity on her weight against her bladder had her lose control of her pelvic muscles, allowing a little pee to leak and slick her bare thighs.

'Hang on a second. Bare thighs?!'

The slip of a large tunic that fell around her in waves was the only thing Lena wore.  On top of it being a man’s shirt, it was made of the softest cotton she’s come across.  The dry itchy linen and hemp clothes she wore on a daily basis were hell on her skin but this was downright pleasant.  It teased the swell of her unbound breasts and skirted around her thighs, barely reaching mid-thigh, but she was vertically challenged so it was scandalously short even for her.

“What the-”  She gaped at herself but she pushed her shock aside as the pressure in her bladder had her bouncing in place, squeezing her thighs together trying to hold it in as she looked for a chamber pot.  

The room she woke in had limestone walls up to a certain point and then the rest were wooden, reaching far up.  There were wide open windows higher up that made no sense but they let in fresh air and late afternoon light. The decor was simple, practical. A low stone bed frame that did not make sense for a human, but for a dwarf it was perfect.  She could sit at it and not have to clamor up to lay down. Her legs would not hang over the edge a child.  There were a few tables and shelves full of books, papers, and quills in empty cups. A simple chest was at the foot of the bed.  The only colors of the room being dark rusted burgundy, glinting golden bronze, and grey stone. It was all very homely and rich but practical.

There were two doors that led out of the bedroom she was in and one curtained off area, which she approached.  To her utter relief she found a chamber pot and proceeded to let loose a stream worthy of the nickname Niagara Falls.

Bemoaning the lack of soap, she exited the curtained area just as one of the two doors opened and Varric greeted her as if it was everyday he woke to a half naked lady in his bed chambers.

'Half naked.  Did we... had Varric and I... ' Head whipping to the messy bed she had moments before vacated, she flushed.  "Did we-"  Lena's voice choked as Varric gave her that smirk again, the one that sent her knees a tremble and her heart thumping. "Oh no... we did?"

"Disappointed?"

"Yes!"  Lena exclaimed, hands in her hair as she yanked at it. "Because I can't remember! Oh what the fuck... I get a chance to bump uglies with Varric Tethras and I was absolutely smashed off my face.  That’s not fucking fair."  She grumbled and groaned, falling to her knees.

"Bump uglies?"  He questioned as he set a bundle of clothes down, that looked like hers, freshly laundered. Her stomach twisted. "Haven't heard it described quite like that before."  

"Ugggh so not fair.  Can we go again?" She shot to her feet and crossed the room to stand in front of him, suddenly nervous and aware of how little she was wearing and how well dressed he was.  "Wait..."  

"You want to go again?  Like that... I'm not an easy dwarf to charm."  Varric grinned and brushed off his jacket.  

Lena snorted. "My terrible excuse for flirting certainly worked."  She squinted as Varric's grin grew wider and she groaned.  "You're having me on aren't you?  You... you."  The storyteller threw his head back in bellowing laughter as Lena's face blossomed red.  She pressed her hands over her face.

"Worth it, if it means seeing you blush like that." Varric snickered as he shifted to one of the tables, his back to her.  "Tempted as I was, I don't make a habit of taking advantage of inebriated ladies, no matter how easily they throw themselves at me."  

"Tempted...?"  Lena muttered and gaped at him as he drew closer to her.  The thumping in her chest fluttered and she gulped as Varric prowled ever closer, a glint in his eyes.  His fingers trailed over her shoulders, gooseflesh rising in their wake. She gave a light moan as his warm breath ghosted over her jaw and the tip of her ear.  Both of his hands came to slowly undo the top two buttons of the tunic, exposing her neck down to the tops of her breasts to the cool air. Her chest heaving with each breath.

"I have a question for you..."  Varric gave a chuckle and she felt weak as he whispered in her ear.  "Who told you about the crossbow?" The sharp edge of a dagger at her neck was shockingly cool in comparison to her heated flesh.  Despite the threat, it had the opposite intended effect on her person. She swooned and stumbled back or perhaps Varric was pushing her.  Her back pressed to the wall while she fluttered her eyelashes at him, mouth pert open.

'Daggers. Fucking daggers, but if I'm to die let it be now... by his hands.  Cosmos, he's yummy.' Lena couldn't form a coherent vocal word and instead whimpered as Varric waited.

Seconds, perhaps minutes went by but by the time she spoke it felt far too short to have Varric pull away with's an expectant expression.  “Well?”

She found her voice the moment the dagger was withdrawn but it was still a threat as she tracked its movements and didn’t look Varric in the eyes.  

“Ssss. weeellll.  Yooouuu seeeee.”  Lena elongated the vowels, her hands wringing as she tried to think her way out of this.  How could she know about the crossbow?  'Crossbow.  Not Bianca?  Why did he call it crossbow?' “I can’t really tell you.”  

“Bullshit.” Varric flipped the dagger between his fingers with ease and sheathed it, not at his belt but within his sleeves.

“See, no If I did tell you.”  Lena licked her lips and grinned. “You’d never believe me. I mean I don’t even look like someone from-”  She paused and grinned wider as Varric tilted his head. “-where I’m from.”  She dangled the information but she had no intention of telling him exactly where she was from.  Lena was not so careless as to reveal what she knew about the future.  Oh no.  She was dead set on keeping that a secret.  In fact, it was why she was looking for a way out of this room.  Much as she loves that damnable smirk and tuft of chest hair, this was bad news.  Getting involved with any of Hawke’s compatriots meant danger.  Danger meant death for her unskilled ass. She needed to escape.

“You’re making me fish?” He smirked leaning against the chest.  He was in the way of her escape.  Not that she could escape.  She wasn’t nearly as fast or crafty to escape Varric.  Plus she wasn’t stupid, walking in Kirkwall with  _just_  a tunic on and nothing else while heading toward the Red Lantern District, she’d be accosted and raped - if she was lucky. “Alright, have it your way.”  Varric pushed off and went through the door, leaving her behind.

A second, two, she snatched the bundle of clothes and chucked her smalls on and yanked the trousers she had been wearing, but kept Varric’s shirt on.  There was no way she was removing it.  Plus it smelled like him and she'd like it as a momento. She picked up her sandals and slipped them on and peeked out the door to see Varric slapping bundles of parchment on the table and then looked back at her.

“First off, you’re not from Orzammar.” Varric gestured for her to sit at the table across from him.

“And just how do you know that?” Not wanting to tempt Varric into throwing daggers, she sat and Varric dropped the parchment in front of her.

She squinted, remembering she didn’t have her glasses but she could make out the words. It was a collection of information, compiled by when she revealed certain facts about herself or things noted about her mannerisms in the broken English that was common.  It had what she looked like down to a pat, even her measurements.  It had her association with the Coterie in there and that was alarming, until she remembered this was Varric.  He had a spy network and handled the seedier side of the Merchant Guild’s dealings.

Then came the page of her debt breakdown.  The initial debt amount written in what looked like roman numerals. How much debt she currently was in with the Coterie, where the additional charges were coming from.  All of this written in various different handwriting as though reported by different people, one such handwriting she recognized as Viveka’s.  Her eye twitched at the tiny remarks Viveka wrote about her “complaints” whenever she complained about tasks not being part of her job description or asking for a little bit more food, or asking for a mask so she could cover her face when she was cleaning the chamber pots.  ‘Self entitled, noble brat.  Complains too much, uppity, thinks herself better.’  And quickly after were some more flattering comments in scratchy handwriting, ‘Complains but knows how to clean things.  Never seen a chamberpot shine.  Barely any dust on these floors.’  She pressed her lips together and glared at the dagger twirling rogue. “You’re spying on me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”  Varric snorted.  “I just look into every new dwarf who happens into Kirkwall, especially one who wracks up a debt that high in such a short time.” Varric set a mug down and a plate. She eyed the plate of meat, cheese, grapes, and apples.  Fresh apples.  

A gulp sounded around them as Varric pushed the plate to her. “Eat.”

For a long minute she stared at the food. “How much is it going to cost me?”

“You’d think I’d charge you?”

“If there is anything I learned from my mother, it is that there is nothing in this world that is free. Everything comes with a  _price._ ” She snapped and pushed the plate back, despite the loud grumbling from her stomach.  The rich foods at the guildhall lask night left her craving more.  Her stomach now stretched to accommodate more food.  She’d have to get used to the meager meals again. She wasn’t looking forward to ignoring the grumbling and hangry headaches again.

“Take it as payment for your company last night, then. Maker knows Denier is probably telling it like that.” Varric smirked and pushed the plate across to her. She paled at that. “What? If you don’t think Denier isn’t a gossiper, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Madam Luisine is going to kill me.” Lena frowned.

“Why? Wait, don’t tell me.  Is it because she wanted to auction off your maidenhead?” Varric chuckled. “Given your earlier reaction, I can only assume you are definitely not as innocent as she believes.”

Lena snorted.  “That’s an understatement.” Varric chortled. “Look, I’m experienced way beyond most people around here.  Pretty sure I could give Jethan, Idunna, and Serendipity combined a run for their money if I wanted to.  But I don’t.  So there. However, it was a nice bit of a coin to fall back on if I ever got...desperate.”

“And you’re not now?” Varric stared her down.  “Ten coppers a day is just above what a slave might make in Tevinter, if they made any coin.”

“I’m not that desperate.”  She was firm, convinced and then faltered. “Not yet anyway.”  She did take note of speaking to Lusine about raising her pay, because if she was a glorified paid slave… she had issues with that.

“So you’d lie?  To get ahead?” He was humming, amused as he wrote something down.  She glowered at him and plucked a grape off the plate to silence her rumbling abdomen.

“Desperation has a way of challenging and breaking down one’s morals. It pushes you to the corner and you do things you much rather would not.” She wasn’t speaking from experience but she’s learned more than enough from the stories of those who have suffered losses and those who came before her.  “So yes if I have the option, I’d much rather not deceive. But I’m not above doing what I  _have_  to, to survive.” She grumbled. “So if it means spreading my legs and laying on my back while some lord or lady has their way with me, believing I’m a nubile virgin dwarf noble then yes. I will sell it… myself.”

Lena met Varric’s eyes head on, not looking away. There was a silent understanding that passed between them, or so Lena thought because Varric gave a genuine smile.

“You still haven’t told me how you knew about the crossbow.”

“A girl needs her secrets. Besides… why do you keep calling it the crossbow _?_  It’s Bianca right?” Lena snatched the wine bottle on the table and popped it.  If Varric wasn’t charging her, then fuck she was going to eat.  Who knows whether she’d be able to make it for the next Guildhall celebration.

“Bianca.  You said that name yesterday too.” Varric scratched at his scruffy chin, his narrowed eyes regarded her.

She sputtered, wine dribbling down her chin. He really didn’t know the name Bianca. Could she… was it really  _before_  he met the genius smith? If so… she messed up already on the future knowledge.  She thought fast and took an educated guess.

“Okay. So. I heard you were looking for someone to work on this crossbow prototype you’ve acquired.” She said it ever so delicately and avoided anymore names. “I happen to know  _of_  a really great smith who can help you.” If she could be here for the creation of Bianca the crossbow, that would be great.  

“Uh-huh. And this smith is named Bianca?” Varric wasn’t convinced.

“Maaayyybeee.”

“And you think I would name my crossbow after this smith?”

“Well, it does have a certain ring to it. Bianca, a crossbow of a design no one else has.”  Lena smirked. This was turning Meta for her really fast. “And you’d be the lucky and only dwarf to...wield her. A mechanical masterpiece.”

“Let me guess…” Varric clicked his tongue as he hovered over Lena’s shoulders. “Your real name is Bianca.”

“Pfft, by the tits of my ancestors, no!” She giggled slapping the table. “I’d be horrified had my parents named me that.  Not that there is anything wrong with it… but I’m rather fond of the name Selena.”  

“Oh? That’s surprising, it doesn’t sound dwarven. And your name isn’t in the shaperate in Orzammar or even in the ledger of families in the Merchant Guild.”  Varric pressed in a friendly tone but there wasn’t anything friendly about the way he was looking at her.  It was downright predatorial.  If it weren’t for the fact he had at least one, maybe two, daggers hidden away up his sleeves, she would have swooned being given that look. As it was, it made her wary and now panicked.

“How did you get access to the shaperate?” Lena muttered.

“I know a guy.” Varric shrugged his shoulders.

'Spy network,' she smirked to herself.  'Backstory, fucking backstory.  I need a backstory.  Dwarven.  They apparently had records of dwarven families.  I’ve been mistaken for noble,' her brain went a mile a minute.  Slowly she grinned and opted to bold face lie.

“You know a guy that gives you access to Orzammar’s Shaperate records but not Kal-Sharok’s.” She spoke smugly and yanked the plate to her, beginning to eat.  

“Kal-Sharok?”  Varric looked dumbfounded and then he snorted.  “You mean one of the lost Thaigs?”

“Not lost. Isolated. House River comes from there… or used to.  We’re exiled, father and mother died because they had no survival skills.  So even if you did know a guy, we’d have been wiped from the stone already.” Lena mustered as much sadness and bitterness as she could and sighed.  

The greatest skill she ever learned was lying.  She wasn’t a master and she certainly couldn’t lie under duress, that would take some level of stamina and willpower she did  _not_ have.  But in a safe environment?

Her eyes were drawn toward Varric’s sleeves, where she gulped again.

 _'_ In a relatively safe environment, she corrected.  She could lie easily and with little effort. She just had to be a little creative.  Plus this lie was basically one that couldn’t be verified.  At least not until the Blight started and even then not really, so maybe not even until Inquisition.

“I don’t like talking about it, so there. Happy? You know where I come from and offended me because I’m not from your precious Orzammar.”  She forced herself to snap to sell the lie and then shoved a slice of cheese into her mouth whole and chewed while looking at the wall with indignation.

There wasn’t anything but the sound of her chewing and slightly choking for a few seconds before Varric sighed. “House Tethras was exiled from Orzammar, so no they aren’t precious to me either.”

“Oh? Well… welcome to Club Exile.” She mumbled and chugged the spiced wine straight from the bottle then held it out to Varric. “Fuck Orzammar.” Lena grinned as he pushed the wine away and chuckled.

“So this smith.” Varric tried.

“It’ll cost you.” She sat back in the chair with a shit-eating grin.

“I could find every smith in Thedas by the name of Bianca-” Varric started but Lena interrupted.

“Ah but that would take  _time_.  And yet here I am with the knowledge you seek, within reach. Did I not say everything comes with a price?” She leaned forward as Varric sucked his teeth in thought and shook his head.

“Two sovereigns.” Varric started.

Lena choked. “No-no. Not coin.”  Lena waved off the idea of being paid in coin.

“You’re 17 sovereigns in debt to the Coterie and you  _don’t_  want to be paid in coin?”  

“Correct.  Instead, a favor, to be collected at a later date.”  _Always plan ahead._  She wasn’t sure what she would do with a favor out of Varric but favors are worth far more than simple currency.

“You want a favor, in exchange for this information?” At her nod he continued. “What would this favor entail exactly?”

“Thats for me to know. Besides if you paid me in coin, how would you know my information’s any good?  This way with a favor you can find out if I’m full of shit or not.” Lena chugged the wine and gave a toothy grin.  “I’m not by the way, but that’s my word. I  _know_ the information is good and it’s not like I can go anywhere.  Can’t bloody well find my way from Hightown to Lowtown or to Darktown without a guide.”

Varric threw his head back and let out a bellowing laugh.

“Yeah, laugh it up.”  She tore at the meat, whatever it was and then sat back.

“Alright, Messere River-”

“Don’t call me that.  Too  _Orlesian_.” Lena scrunched her nose at the title.

“Serah Lena?” She shook her head. “Then what do I call you?”

“Madame Selena.” She grinned and Varric once again howled before holding his hand out.  

“Alright, Madame Selena. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Selena shook his offered hand. “So the smith you’re looking for.  Her name-” Varric held his hand up to stop her.

“Bianca Davri.  Of House Davri, a Kalnas.”  Varric looked like the cat that got the canary, his smirking smile mocking he as he now corked the wine.

“If you knew… why did you agree with my terms? You now owe me a favor.” Lena gaped and shot up to her feet.

“Curiosity mostly.” Varric collected his papers neatly and stacked them away. “And I wanted to know what kind of dwarf lets herself be given such a terrible pay, yet was able to bargain a  _favor_  out of me for information.  Clearly your negotiating skills aren’t the question. But you’re definitely easily bullied when threatened.”

“I-I-  **what**?”

“Denier called in a favor, said he knew a dwarf getting shafted by the Coterie. So tell me, how did you end up in debt?”

 _Denier._  Denier did this? She let the words roll over her and then finally snapped up to look at Varric.  She’d been outplayed somehow, but also not.  She’d been  _helped?_ She hadn’t expected anyone to really help her, not without some kind of motivation.

So she answered Varric in detail.  Not of how she got here.  Oh no, but how she got saddled with the debt.  The lyrium, the shady deals with Templars (in particular Samson) in Darktown and then being forced to work at the Rose because she caused Harlan to lose that much coin. The way Lusine handled it and her general treatment thus far.

“Lyrium in those quantities with the Templars? Are you sure?” Varric asked and she nodded. “Interesting.” He scribbled something in one of the books and then sighed. “Well, you’ll be happy to note that I’ve negotiated a better pay for you. That’s probably the only free favor you’ll ever get.”

“Why’d you help me?” She was a little thrown off.  Now that she’s had time to think about it, she supposed the wages were absolutely ridiculous.  But hindsight is 20/20; not to mention she was still very disorientated and confused when that had been worked out and she had no concept of what things cost here.

“I told you, Denier called in a favor.” Varric brushed off the drying sand and closed his book.

“Yes, but you didn’t have to take care of my drunk self, or feed me… or negotiate a better pay.” She knew she had a point. Varric went above and beyond what he was asked.  _Why?_

“A pretty young dwarf was being taken advantage of, how could I just stand by and let that happen?” Varric cooed with a wink. Lena flushed, she didn’t think she was all that pretty or young.

“Well thank you.” She managed to say with a straight face. “Even though I’m sure it’s going to bite me in the ass at a later date.”

“You wound me with your suspicions, Madame.” Varric placed a hand over his heart and looked mocked hurt. Lena snickered.

“When I wound you, Master Tethras, you’ll know it.” Her lips twitched into a smug grin.

“Oh?”

“Yes. And it will be very pleasurable.” She drawled out the word and licked her lips, slowly. Varric’s gaze drew to her lips; his pupils dilated just a tad before he chuckled, quickly followed by a cough. He was intimidated? Aroused? Either way her chest filled with pride and reassurance, she still had it even in a dwarf body.  

“Careful, River. You shouldn’t play with a man’s desires.” Varric warned with a wagging finger.

“I work in a Brothel, Tethras.”  She stepped toward him, her hips swayed and his eyes followed the movement. "I play with men's desires all the time." 

“But you don’t sell yourself.”

“Then consider this a gift, for your charitable services last night.” Lena stopped inches before Varric.

“A gift huh?” Varric smirked, not stopping her as she pressed close. “What kind of gift?”

“As if you don't know.” Lena had to reach up on tiptoes because Varric was actually taller than her.  Her hand rested at his shoulder and she leant forward ninety percent of the way in to kiss him, hovering there. So close they were she could feel the quickened pulsing beat of his heart. Time stretched as gold met brown, sharing heated moist breath between each other but they didn’t kiss.  She fluttered her eyelashes and his eyes smoldered longingly, something holding him back. But what?

Bianca _._  He was probably already in love with the smith. Here she was, throwing herself at him and he was involved with her already.

Lena pulled back, dejected and accepting of what will never happen, when Varric chased after her. His lips pressed to hers. She melted against him, his arm carching her lower back to keep her from falling over. The muffled moan and explosion of elation pushed her further.  More, more.

It was chaste at first, until she flicked her tongue over his lips, asking express permission to enter. Varric groaned at her forwardness and let her.  He tasted sweet, minty and with the faint taste of wine on his tongue.  She pressed closer, being swallowed up in the musky scent of Varric.  His thick arms came around her, pulling her closer.  Books, parchment, ink and fire with the faint undertone of sweat and his natural scent that made her moan.  

Her hands slid up to his neck, fingernails scraping his scalp pleasantly before she massaged with the pads of her fingers. He released a pleased hum and rumbled his approval deep in his chest. Her legs squirmed with want. It was overloading her, her eyelids fluttered closed and she lost herself in him.  She wanted to be in control but she was not so easily granted it.

His moves were subtle; hers were brutish.  He had a hand at her back, the other came to rest on her jaw, angling her head to allow him to plunder deeper.  With a gentle caress of her jaw; she pushed their tongues into a duel and rubbed against his _._   His tongue massaged against hers and she would pull back to nip at his lips, sucking on them.  She was bolder than him and he had to play catch up to drag her down to a crawl, drawing out the exchange, wanting it to last.  Her impatience reared its head as she wanted it, and wanted it  _now._   

Back and forth they went.  Together they danced, together they kissed and together they separated panting, and out of breath.  Heat and want building between them.

Lena grinned lasciviously as she tasted Varric on her lips.  She wondered what other methods she could  _taste_  him at her lips.  Varric on the other hand was adjusting his trousers ever so subtly and then he fixed the hair she had mussed.

“Well…” For once, he was speechless. Lena felt victorious. “That was...that was something else.”

“Indeed.”  She purred and went to kiss him again when a knock at the door to the room had them pausing. Neither stopped gazing at each other. There was something between them.

“Varric?” Came a female voice. That rose her brows suspiciously and Varric chuckled.

“Come in Norah.” In came a very pretty human in a dress and apron, her hair tied back with a white cloth.

“Ah, sorry to disturb, just collecting the pots.” She muttered and darted into the bedroom.  Lena winced, remembering how much was in there but it didn’t seem to be a problem for Norah as she darted back out.  

“Let me know if you need anymore ale.” The woman gave a friendly smile and closed the door.

“Will do Norah, thank you.”  A pregnant silence filled the room for a brief moment and the two dwarves sized each other up. “Where were we?”

“Kissing.” Lena purred with a gleam in her eyes, eager to be pressed close again.

“Yes...we were but, I think we should stop.”  Varric started and then added to reassure her crestfallen expression, “For today anyway.”

“I suppose, you’re right.  I should get back to the Rose. Don’t want to miss out on tonight’s wages anyway.” She sighed, not looking forward to being hungry later. She grabbed the remaining apple off the plate and sauntered to the door.

“Don’t worry about that.” Varric caught the door before she could slip out. “And Selena.”  He spoke lowly into her ear, causing her breath to hitch and a gleeful smile to stretch across her lips.

“Yes?”  She breathed.  Varric caught her lips again, pressing her against the door and dominated this kiss, leaving no room for her to fight back.  It was hot and wound her up in ways he wouldn’t be able to quench.  They pulled away panting again. “You sure carry a lot of daggers on you. Didn’t know one so big and hard would fit into your trousers.” She muttered to his amusement.

“Oh I’ve got all sorts of daggers I can show you.”

“I look forward to it.” She slipped out the room and out of Varric’s grasp, down the stairs, and paused just as she realized she was in the Hanged Man. All that time she had spent in Varric’s private room at the Hanged Man and here she was in the bar.

Pity she had to work. She sighed as she walked out into Lowtown. Lowtown which she’d never seen before.  Lowtown which she had no way to navigate back to Hightown, except to find the giant fucking staircase of doom, because it had no railings.

“Well...this is going to be fun.” She looked around the main market square of Lowtown, briefly considering trying to find her way back

Lowtown was just as hard to navigate, if not more so than Hightown.  The buildings weren’t as tall but looked almost exactly the same. You could easily turn into one alleyway and end up on the main road halfway across Kirkwall in just two minutes but just as easily you would find yourself in a dead end.

But, she supposed this was fortuitous because she walked down some stairs into a large clearing with a large painted and decorated tree that reach high up above the buildings.  Its reddening and browning leaves falling and giving the sandstone buildings some life.  The buildings here were run down, cracked with patches of moss and all types of growth, vines and weeds littering the place.  The dirt and sand courtyard was bare once you stepped down from the stairs.

That’s when she noticed the elves looking at her oddly and suspiciously.  Not nearly as suspiciously as they’d look at a human but they were still wary.  And taller.

This was the alienage.

“Lena?” Athenril called from one of the narrow alleyways here.  She turned to see the coterie exiting a small building.

“Athenril!”

“What are you doing here?” The elven rogue stepped out, the other elves averted their eyes and continued their business.

“Apparently getting lost.” Lena answered and then took a bite of her apple. “Think you can help me get back to the Rose?”

Athenril snorted. “Thirty coppers, says I can.”

“Really? After we bathed naked together too?” Lena snarked and snickered when the elf blushed.

“Twenty.”

“Fine.”  She fished out her coin purse which felt heavier than she remembered. She certainly didn’t remember having that many silver coins in it yesterday.  She made a mental note to do something extra special for Varric next time...they meet.  She counted out the coppers and went to hand them over when she paused. “Actually…”

“What? Do you need a guide or not?”

“Do you remember the night we first met? In Darktown?” Lena asked. Athenril squinted. “Can you take me back to there.  I think I left something there. I’ve been trying to find my way back.”

“It’s probably gone by now.” Athenril scoffed.

“Yea, but I’d like to check just in case.”

“Fine, follow me.” Athenril darted toward one of the stairways that led further down from the alienage. It was a bit wet this way.  The docks not too far off from here.  But all of that was nothing in comparison to what the sudden excitement of where she was heading.

Black Emporium here Lena comes, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be out yesterday, and I do apologize for that. I fell asleep while writing and turns out I'm sick so heyo great fantastic times. 
> 
> I have this headcanon that the Dwarves, when pitted against the humans, tend to stick together and watch out for each other. But within their own confines they have a lot of drama and politics and other nasties. So Denier, precious manwhore Denier, saw Lena getting shafted by the humans and decided to do something about it. So he turns to Varric who has dealings with the coterie. His editor is part of the coterie after all so it makes sense he'd have some leeway, even if it's a little.
> 
> Edit: A while ago I _tried_ to make a visual representation of Lena on DAI CC, but there isn't any curly hair mods for dwarf females that fit. So I tried Black Desert, as is my usual, and this was as close as I got: [Lena](http://66.media.tumblr.com/2c216f98002949a45d693e817abdae1c/tumblr_o6f6ldOvst1rsf06zo1_1280.jpg)


	6. Desperada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes being desperate isn't the only motivator.

Darktown, like Lowtown, was a maze. It was a perilous with dark corners and shady dwellers. Alcoves led to doors to buildings carved into the deep quarry beneath the city; open areas had haphazardly thrown up wooden walls to make shacks. There was a heady sickening scent that was a mixture of rot, sewage, and sweat. It left a palpable taste in the air that made everyone not used to Kirkwall gag. 

Not Lena.

Lena grew up in the Garden State around the disgusting smell and musk of oil refineries, pollution, shit, and sweat of high population cities. The chokedamp made her homesick like she'd never thought possible. She missed the shoed in houses, the close neighbors that would just as easily cross each other, stealing from each other but then in times of crisis they would help each other.

Athenril watched for her reaction as they passed by a particularly odorous sewage drain and walls coated in growing fungus, but Lena was stoic as they made their way past. The only indication she gave was a deep sigh and a longing look around before shaking her head.

"What is it?" Athenril asked. The elven Coterie agent peered down at the dwarf with a questioning gaze.

Selena eyed Athenril, weighing the options of whether she should say anything. Given the fact Varric was spying on her - Athenril being a possible source of his information - she didn't want to be too specific. "Darktown reminds me of home."

"Really?"

"It's the smell. As hilarious as that is, this stench reminds me of home. The clustered homes and shady onlookers." Lena frowned as they turned a corner, the smell of the ocean wafting through large opened windows. She didn't remember this but she paused, eyes closing shut as the essence of oceans filtered the tang of Darktown.

Back home, in New Jersey she lived in a city on the bay, with the skyline of New York City greeting her every morning. All her life she lived an hour train ride from the greatest city in America and she'd never been. Its why she'd taken a vacation to finally see the city and when she did... she ended up here. She hoped when her family did realize she was gone too long, they wouldn't retrace her steps. The last thing she needed was her mother's temperament in Thedas. It'd be the stuff of nightmares.

"What's your home like?"

Lena opened her eyes. "Terrible. Crowded. Corrupt."

"So like Kirkwall." Athenril smirked.

"Exactly like Kirkwall." Lena snorted and she followed the elf. "But it was home. Born and raised and lived there all my life until..."

"Until?"

Lena bit her lip as she nearly slipped up. "Exiled."

"You'd think Orzammar would be empty given how often they exile you lot." Athenril mused.

"You'd think that. But I'm not from Orzammar." Lena nonchalantly lied.

"No? Where're you from?"

"A very isolated Thaig to the west, you wouldn't know about it." Lena mumbled, looking down. _Don't look left, liars look left when they are lying._

They fell silent as Athenril guided her to the corridor she had met her in. A whole month and some change had passed since that day. She eyed the corridor, remembering the shrieking rats and the way she'd been terrified of being found.

"What'd you leave behind?"

Lena didn't answer instead going down the alleyway she had come from, slowly dedicating each detail to memory. It felt like a shorter walk, but before she hadn't been used to walking on her dwarf legs and she had to lug her suitcase, now she was free of any physical burden and was getting used to her dwarva body. Athenril trailed after as Lena counted each connecting alleyway. Counting each turn and dedicating the numbers to memory, she came to a stop.

The red mark she made with her lipstick was still there. The wall exactly as she recalled it, and the darkened alley was a bit brighter but it was still the same. The only difference was that there were no rats to scare her this time.

“Find it?” Athenril’s voice woke Lena up. She’d been staring at the wall for a second too long.

“No…”  She muttered, but now aware she took in as many details as she could. “I guess you were right. Another ten coppers to lead me back to the Rose?”

It was slower going the way back, mostly because Lena did not engage in conversation. She was too intent on dedicating the route back to memory. Keeping count of how many lefts and rights she had to take and which staircases to climb. By the time they exited out to a familiar Hightown street, she had the entire route memorized. But just in case dashed toward the Rose, to her bunk and grabbing her notebook and pencil to scribble it down.

“Well, look who’s come back from a night of pleasure. And with the Merchant Prince no less.” Denier chuckled as Lena wiped the tables down before they got too dirty. Patrons filtered in at their usual time. Denier was at his standard perch in the corner with Adriano, sipping at ale and tossing out flirtatious barbs at customers, trying to entice them. He’d taken a break to look, giving her a half cocked smirk.

“It wasn’t like that.” Lena huffed once she caught the look of silent disapproval from Lusine.

“Oh, come now Lena. No man would deny a woman who would so willingly throw themselves at a man like you did.” Denier snickered.

“Oh, do tell me, Lena… I’ve wondered myself what Varric’s capable of.” Adriano questioned with a gleam in his eyes. “Something about his chest hair, rather fond of it.”

“As is every woman, apparently. He’s not even a real dwarf. No beard.” Denier scoffed and sipped at his ale.

“To be frank, it was honestly a disappointment.” Lena sighed.

“No!” Denier choked on his ale and gawked at her. “The Great Varric Tethras a disappointment?” Denier looked shocked, before he squinted at her.

“Not Varric. Me. I spent most of the night curled up around the chamberpot, and he was muttering how glad he was that he didn’t spend a single coin on me.” Lena forced herself to blush and spoke softly, like telling a secret to sell the lie. Denier and Adriano on the other hand burst into raucous laughter.

“You found him so repugnant you lost your stomach!”

“Couldn’t keep it in, she says. IN HER BELLY!” Adriano quipped.

Lena rolled her eyes, but she caught the pleased look from Lusine. Saved. Good, she still had that option, even if it meant having to hear Denier and Adriano make fun of her lack of tact and seduction skills. They will never know, plus it wasn’t too far from the truth. Still, it would take a bit more convincing to make sure others didn’t think she’d lost her innocence. It was time to ramp it up a notch.

Often times when she’s working, patrons would leer at her. Pinch her behind or offer to pay for her services. A female dwarf in the Rose was apparently rare enough that it drew the eye and curiosity.

‘Look how small she is, bet her cunt’s tight.’

‘She’d pull prick right nice with those lips.’

‘Look at the size of her bosoms! I’d like to suck on those.’

Were among the more colorful and tactfully phrased comments the patrons would throw her way. Most times she ignored them, too busy cleaning to really give a response. Now though, she’d have to rely on the teasing to recover her night spent in Varric’s quarters even if nothing truly happened. Reputation and how things are perceived is what governed every society, no matter the world. Never the truth, unfortunately.

“Perception is nine tenths of the law, Selena. Remember that.”  Yes, mother. Will do.

Now to wait for her perfect target. She was bent down, picking up some fallen mugs of ale when the pinch happened. Normally, as she’s gotten used to it, she would ignore it and keep moving. Tonight, she yelped.

A little over-exaggerated but she jumped up and brought forth her most humiliating memory. When she was in grade school she had to perform in front of her class. She’d forgotten her line and spat out gibberish to the amusement of her classmates. Teary and red faced she was laughed off the makeshift stage. It was a memory that kept her up at night and if she should ever remember it offhand, her face, she’d been told, became as red as a tomato.

Lena eyed the Templar who had pinched her bottom with an expression of surprise and her face blossomed red as she stumbled. The Templar’s companions froze. She recognized them. They were among the many who would make untoward advances. Perfect.

“D-do-don’t do that, Ser!” She stammered out and turned her gaze downward and quickly shuffled off with her bucket to clean another corner.

She did it again when Gamlen, drunk as he was made a pass at her and she sputtered and flushed, looking up at him through her eyelashes. The tears might have been much but it sold it and Gamlen blushed and muttered an apology.

Eventually by the time morning rolled around a drunken Templar would stand up anytime any of the patrons made any sort of perverted comment or tried pinching her arse. He was muttering about her honor and how she needed a gallant knight to defend her.

It was almost too easy. Then again the patrons were drunk as skunks and here to have a good time. They weren't exactly paying attention to when someone was deceiving them. Except Denier who snorted each time she opened her mouth.

Lena snickered to herself as she dumped the plates into the wash, a dust pan full of ashes followed. The quick and easy soap of animal fat mixed with the ashes let her scrub the plates. This was something she had insisted be done rather than the simple rinsing off the other servants had been doing. Lena had nearly thrown up to see there wasn't even proper cleaning habits being practiced. She'd have to do something about the hygiene of Kirkwall.

"What do you think you're doing?" Viveka stepped into the small wash room, hovering over Lena as she peeked up from the mugs.

"Washing dishes."

"Not that." She snarled and pushed Lena into the wall, the plate she'd been working on falling and shattering on the floor, bits of it falling down the shoot where she normally emptied the chamber pots into. "Don't act cute. It's disgusting from the likes of you short-mouthed."  Viveka hissed at her.

Short-mouthed?  Rather than react, she deadpanned. "I don't know what you mean."  

“You know exactly what I mean.” Viveka snarled. “I’m wise to your schemes.”

This chick. Lena rolled her eyes, but Viveka caught the movement.

Viveka glowered. "That will cost you another fifty silvers."

"What!?" Lena shouted.

“Another fifty silvers. Or did you forget who does the books around here?” Viveka’s smug grin needed to be punched but Lena was too short to reach her. At least until she stood up.

“How are you going to explain the extra charge?”

"Madam Lusine, Lena broke another dozen plates!" Viveka shouted.

"Maker's tears!"  Came the responding scream.

"You're an idiot. They aren't even broke- HEY"  Lena tried to stop Viveka as she spilled over the tray of plates. She got slammed into the wall for the trouble, the wind knocked from her. Viveka was physically stronger than her and each plate cracked and chipped as they fell, Viveka even stomped on a few of them for good measure.

"I know what you're doing. It'll never work." Viveka hissed and dumped the bucket on top of Lena and left the room.

**Don't cry.**

The filth of the plates scattered over the floor, the bucket upturned. The water funneled down into the chute, bits of food littering the floor.

**Do not cry.**

Shaking hands wrung out a sopping wet apron.

**Do not fucking cry.**

Her glistening brown eyes blinked rapidly as she shoved the broken plates down the chute. They clattered and clanged down the metal squared pipes.

**Don't you fucking dare cry.**

Lena grit her teeth, fingers curling into fists. Her tears dried as quickly as they had welled up. Her shoulders shook, a low throaty chuckle rumbled out of her. She wasn't going to cry. Oh no. She was not a crier. Being bullied was not new to her, but being bullied for acting cute and innocent was definitely new, especially because she wasn’t innocent or cute. Not that she could blame Viveka, she’d often found people who forced it to be annoying but clearly it didn’t look forced to the men and women responding to the cute innocent act.

She snorted and rose up releasing a bitter cackle to release the tension that had settled into her shoulders. She’d have to thank Viveka for the extra twenty minutes, now that she didn't have to do the dishes. With a newfound appreciation for Viveka, she went back on the floor only mildly damp but the looks she got as her clothes clung to her curves, more than made up for it. She doubled down on her efforts to appear innocent, with a red face and trying to hide her bosom. It got her more pinches and a brawl broke out as a particularly gallant guardsman by the name of Ewald tried to “protect her delicate sensibilities.”

Lena could barely contain her laughter. Especially so when a certain brown cloaked archer came through the doors as she was finishing up clearing the tables. Prince Vael in a shitty disguise froze seeing her, still damp with cloth still clinging to her. She’d given him a coy and bashful smile until she looked down at her chest and made sure a rather blooming blush covered her cheeks and she covered herself.

She finally changed her clothes only because she didn’t want to freeze or get sick while sleeping. Although given what she knows about germs, spreading her nasty 21st century germs to Viveka would surely be worth it. If only it didn’t have the potential to wipe out the entirety of Thedas.

Instead she was back to her original plan to get into the Emporium. Make Xenon find a way home for her. Give a proper, salacious, goodbye to Varric and never again open strange books from strange men again.

If she can’t do that this morning, then she’d have a lot of free time to figure out what to do next.

 

* * *

She didn’t have much free time. The red marked wall in Darktown was visited eight times in fourteen days. Each visit yielded nothing different. No shimmering blue light, no edges that led Lena to believe there was a hidden door. Nothing could be found. Attempts were even made to break chunks of the wall out to get to the store that lay within, to no avail.

Today Lena was stooped low sweeping the ashes out of the fireplace, Madam Lusine having been called off. Normally the elven servants did this, but tonight she did, skulking about the Blooming Rose upper floors, collecting ashes from every fireplace and sticking them in a box. The servants normally dumped the ashes down with the other sewage, not Lena.  She was collecting them for the express purpose of a little project she was doing.   She added more logs to the hearths to keep the rooms warm as the chill of Autumn now seeped into the Rose. By comparison the servants quarters were dismally cold and the children seemed to think sleeping in her bunk was the optimal choice because she radiated heat.

She only radiated heat because she could feel her hands getting jittery every day; could feel the exhaustion and bursts of manic energy, the restlessness, and her heart palpitations. The unfortunate circumstance of her medical condition was flaring up. It wasn’t deadly, by no means but it could be if it didn’t settle down. It was still early, but she knew she would be in dire straits if she didn’t do something to at least quell the symptoms. Going through a Thyroid Storm was not on her list of things to do, especially not while in Kirkwall.

It was the stress. The stress of living in this world and of not eating and the ridiculous amounts of physical activity she was now doing. A lifetime spent engaging in a sedentary lifestyle was coming back to bite her in her hamburger shaped ass. The moment she started dropping weight, she’d have to increase the amount of protein she’d need to eat but meat was expensive.

She made a grand total, thanks to Varric, thirty coppers a day. Which would have been great if she didn’t have a vindictive bitch of a bookkeeper gathering the other catty bitches in the Rose to sabotage her. Oh and also she was now in debt twenty sovereigns.

Viveka, and her Mean Girls possy comprised of Idunna, Jethann, Serendipity, and Faith, made her life a living hell. Between spilled wine, broken plates, damaged clothing, and sundry being blamed on her… she was ready to start ripping her hair out. If it weren’t for the fact her hair was falling out now and turning silver once again. Iron deficiency anemia on top of B-12 deficiency. Her life went from worse to fucked in a matter of a couple of weeks.

No lead on how to get into the Emporium.

Her health was in danger.

She was being targeted by what amounts to the “popular” girls.

She hadn’t heard from Varric since that fateful non-sexual night.

She had a twenty sovereign debt.

Sebastian would not stop leering at her over the rim of his mug.

Yes. Sebastian was there, and it wasn't even Tuesday. As far as she knew, the Royal Archer only ever came into the Rose on Monday nights, practically Tuesdays. Yet he was there, and staring as she went from table to table clearing tables. He was also here early and though his disguise was better than just a hastily drawn cloak, she recognized those eyes. They practically popped out of the dreary surroundings of his cloak. Several times she’d seen Katriela approach him to see if he wanted her tonight, but he waved her off. Instead he ordered more wine and sat alone in a corner, by himself watching her. 

It gave her the creeps.

Ignoring him, she went about her duties and avoided Viveka and her posse as much as she could. Though she was only successful in one of those, especially as she ended up laying sprawled on the floor on the second floor with a mug of ale splattered over her. Jethann smirked at her as he moved past with his favored patron, Ninette. Ninette was nice, apologizing for knocking her over but Jethann was quick to pull her along and away.

Lena attempted to get up and failed until a hand gripped her shoulder and hefted her up with ease.

"Thanks.” she muttered and turned, her back stiffening when she saw the brown cloak and those eyes. Sebastian’s gentle smile disarmed her, until she remembered the feel of his pointy daggers. “Uh…”  A step back had her pressed against the wall.

“I don’t mean any harm.”

“Right… suppose I hallucinated you pressing-”  Lena paused, lowering her voice as one of the girls disappeared into one of the rooms with another patron. “-a dagger to my throat.”

“I apologize. I may have-” Sebastian’s timbred voice was low and soothing. 'Damn him. This hits my voice kink so bad,' Lena let the voice that washed over her. “-overreacted. I was hoping we could have a conversation. In private.”

Ding Ding. Warning bells rang in her head and she paled. “Uh… no. No. We will not.” She slid along the wall to get away from him. His arm trapped her, his frame towering over her. Shit, **shit**.

“I must insist that we have words.”  The gentle tone had a shiv in the dark quality to it, like he was insisting - or else. it didn't help that his cerulean hues bore down at her.

“T-thats great and all. But time is money - er- coin. My time costs coin. So unless you pay the coin, you ain’t gonna get me in private.”  She hissed, straightening her back. “I’m right expensive, mate.”  She burst out her imitation Australian accent and dodged down underneath Sebastian, between his legs. One positive of being so short, she could climb underneath humans and between their legs and it not be hugely awkward. Well… it’s awkward when they notice her. It would probably be easier with Qunari.

She shuffled off fast, hightailing it down the stairs and not once looking back. As hot as Sebastian was, she did not trust him. Sure she might have instigated this what with her visit to the Chantry last Sunday. That time, Sebastian had been present and she kept staring at him and briefly making eye contact the entire service with a smirk and look to Grand Cleric Elthina for emphasis.

It was a stupid move and she knew it. The sheer panic that filtered over him was enough to make Denier question her sanity as she could barely hold her laughter in.

* * *

 

The Blooming Rose was quiet the following night when she walked out of the servants quarters. There were few people coming in and those that did were hooded and shady types. Masks and scarves covered their faces, but these were not Orlesian fashion staples. These were masks for the strict purpose of concealment. Patrons didn't stay in the main floor for long before they disappeared up the stairs toward the fourth floor. Madam Lusine looked crosser than usual and was sipping at a wine glass from her perch by the door.

None of the workers were on display tonight and it was instead just Viveka, Lena, and Quintus walking about serving ale in the quiet evening. Viveka couldn't bully her with no way to hide her machinations amongst the crowds so Lena was safe, for once.

"Quintus..."  Lena sat at the bar, having to climb onto the chair to be somewhat eye level with the bartender. His mouth smacked open but Lena scrunched her nose at him, catching the scent of the chewing tobacco. "Why are we so...empty?"

"Business on the top floor." Quintus grumbled between chews. He turned and plopped a frothy mug of ale in front of her. "Have a drink, its going to be a slow night."

"You and I both know, I can't afford it."  Lena grumbled but took the mug, if only to smell it.

"So make Viveka pay. Maker knows she's got it coming." Quintus smirked.

"Sorry-what?" Lena swished some ale down.

"You've got some intense tolerance and patience. If I was you..."  Quintus whistled and shook his head.

"So... you know what she's doing?" Quintus nodded. "And you don't say anything?"

"Can't really, she's Lusine's niece." Quintus spat a chunky black tar into a cup on the bar and gave a black toothed grin.

"Fucking nepotism..."  Lena groaned and rubbed her face. The bitch was currently off somewhere, leaving Lena to the tending of the rare patrons who were remaining on the main floor. But without the allure of the women and men of the Rose, they drank and left. "Alright put it on Viveka’s tab."

"Will do."  Quintus grinned and set another mug of ale in front of her, which she downed quickly before Lusine could see. Not that the Madam was looking, she was busy speaking in hushed tones to another patron who was disguised.  Only this time she looked pleased and hurriedly escorted them off to the large meeting room.  Normally it was reserved for the gangs that sometimes frequented the Rose, like the Sharps, the Red Iron, and occasionally some merchant dwarves.  Lena has never seen just one person be escorted that way.

It happened five more times and from different entrances. They wore black cloaks, and masks covering their entire face, except for their eyes.  Very different than the masks the other Rose visitors were wearing and very different than the Orlesian masks she witnessed on occasion.  They were all escorted to the same room.  

One of them wore a very thick black cloak, another wore more of a charcoal grey cloak, accompanied by one who wore a dark grey cloak.  The others wore simpler faded gray cloaks and hoods.  They all wore the same mask, the only indicators of who they were being their eyes and their gaits.  Three of them walked like they were used to carrying much more weight.  Warriors, if she had to guess.  The two that came in together carried themselves like they owned the place.  That meant they were nobles or those of significant wealth. The last one, she couldn’t quite peg who they were but their lack of a distinctive gait set them apart.

Quintus and Lena shared curious glances each time Madam Lusine came out, carrying plates of food into the room, not even bothering to ask Viveka or Lena for help - or well ordering them to help. At least until a whole hour and five ales in for Lena later,  “Selena… be a dear.  Serve the gentlemen this wine. I have to fetch something.” Lusine gave her a brilliant smile and pushed her toward the room with the wine bottle.

Lena glanced at the door that closed behind her, bewildered.  Madam Lusine was acting very odd.  Still, serving wine wasn’t exactly hard. So she stomped over to the circle of seats the patrons were lounging in, or she would have if their gazes weren’t all directly centered on her.

Briefly, Lena thought of Blood Mage groups meeting together.  Blood sacrifices in order to summon demons.  She wouldn’t be surprised if Idunna suddenly waltzed in.  But that didn’t happen, instead the Charcoal one raised a gloved hand to his black mask, leant toward his companion and whispered something.

'What in the fuck is this?' She didn’t move, feeling like she should run.  Her instincts might not be the best but there was something very off about this.  Grip tight on the wine, she trudged up to the closest table their eyes tracked her and she slapped the wine bottle down. “Serve yourselves!” She seethed through gritted teeth.  

The black cloaked one chuckled.  It was a sound she’s heard before but she couldn’t place it for the life of her.

“Now now, Lena dear.  Don’t be rude.” Madam Lusine chided as she beamed at her from the door.  She carried a small ledger and scale. “Pour them the wine.”  The stern look Lusine sent her rivaled the one her mother used to give her when she was disappointed.  That was not a phrase she lightly used as her mother was raised by a Hispanic Catholic, and they practically withered plants when they glared.  Selena shrunk under that gaze and sheepishly uncorked the wine, pouring it into the first glass held out to her.  

Unfortunately pouring the wine took longer because each of these guests had her pause.  Their gloved hands slowing her movements. Each time, she sent a look to Madam Lusine who did not bat an eyelash but rather began to converse with them, in Orlesian - damn French.

Something shady was going on because while she may be able to pick out some of the Orlesian words written because of the similarities to other Latin based languages, hearing it spoken was very different.  And especially when spoken so fast. There were some in the group who couldn’t quite speak it as fluently but the ones who did, seemed to dominate.  

“Lena...come here.” Lusine called to her and pointed next to her. She squinted at the Madam. No _._

“Why?”

“Do as you’re told.”

“Never was good at that.” She sniped and three of the patrons snickered and again that chuckle.  It sent thrills up her spine that were both pleasant and ominous.

“Feisty isn’t she?”  An older man’s voice said in Common with a laugh.  It was the one that had spoke to their companion earlier.  She glowered at that one, turning to him fully.  He had bright cerulean eyes and if it weren’t for his graveled tone, she wouldn’t have known he was elder as the mask covered everything.  His companion who had snickered, whispered something to the other his reddish brown eyes mirthful.  

“Madam Lusine.”  Lena snapped back to look at the Brothel runner who had opened her ledger.  “What is happening?  Why am I in here?” 

Sue her.  Lena could be slow at times but it was starting to click.  She _hoped_ she wasn’t about to have to throw down, because she would lose.  Spectacularly.  And whatever _this_ was… was going to happen regardless and that terrified her.  The notion, the idea that it would happen without her choice. _No._

“I thought you told her?”

Starkhaven bastard!  She about faced and eyed the black cloaked one and seethed as she caught his apologetic stare. She had words flying to the tip of her tongue and she was about to call him out.

“Oh good, are we dropping the Orlesian. Distasteful language."   _That_ voice she knew and it came from one of the cloaked ones who walked like he was used to heavier armor. Ewald!  Guard Captain Ewald?! What was he doing here?

“I beg your pardon?” Came a heavily Orlesian accented voice who sent Ewald a glare.  

“Gentlemen.  Back to business?” Lusine sighed as she called their attention back to her, not wanting to let them begin gripping.

“Back to business?  Yeah… you get back to business.  I’m fucking out of here.”  Lena growled and turned around.  “I’m not a fucking idiot despite what you think, Lusine. But I told you NO when it came to this.”

“Oh good. There’s a bit of _fight_ in her.” Seneschal Bran's voice always gave her chills whenever he spoke while visiting the other girls.  And to hear him speak here in regards to her about fight in her. She went to NOPE right out, her feet moving to carry her to the door only to stumble back as someone she didn’t want to ever again see came through those doors with a scowl. It was the scarred face of one Harlan, head of the Coterie.  

She squeaked.  From the frying pan into the fire.  He stalked her right back to the group, his gaze glaring at her.  

“Gentlemen… shall we start the bidding at five sovereigns-”  Lusine called, a slight panic in her voice as Harlan pushed Lena into the center of the group, a dagger present now forcing Lena to behave.

Sharp. Pointy. Deadly.  She gulped.  

“Six.”  Harlan growled out.

“You can’t be serious.” One voice she didn’t know scoffed angrily.

“When’s the next time you think such a _pure_ and _innocent_ woman such as her is ever going to be around again and willing to sell herself. And a dwarf….” Harlan chuckled. “Thank the Maker it’s happening within your lifetime and here I’ve gone to the trouble to ensure you gents get first pickings. For the right price of course.”

“Willing?” Sebastian’s voice had a tinge of anger.

“Oh yes!  She’s darn right willing, Ain’t that right, Lena ?” Harlan pulled her into him with one handed, the dagger dangerously close to her face.  He lowered his voice. To just below a whisper. “Twenty sovereigns...I don’t know how how you managed to cost me more coin, but I **will** collect one way or another.” The threat hung in the air.  

The burst of vomit burned in her throat. She couldn’t say no. It wasn’t worth dying over.  “Oh…”  she cringed as her voice shook and eyes stung with unshed tears.  “Yes… sorry.  Of course. No-no less than six sovereigns-”  Her voice bubbled and lower lip trembled. Don’t cry.

“See… that’s my girl.”  Harlan patted her cheek and let her go.  He didn’t disappear but remained present at the door, overseeing the entire Auction.  

There was a moment of silence and then the older man’s voice piped up.  “Seven.”

For a long moment no one spoke. “Will anyone like to bid Seven-ten?”

“Seven-fifty.”  Sebastian’s tone came.  Lena didn’t look at him, she remained stock still as the numbers came.  

Seven-sixty.  Ewald bid up.

Seven-eighty. Bran bid.

Seven-ninety.  Sebastian outbid.

Eight.  The Orlesian accented one bid.

Eight-fifty. The older one said.

Nine-twenty. The price jumped by the gruff one.

Ten.  Seneschal Bran jumped up.  The room grew quiet and Lena looked at him, catching his eye. She supposed there were worse partners.  She just hoped she didn’t catch anything from him. _'_ Damnit, where is Anders.  I’m going to need a full thorough cleansing after this.'

Ten-thirty.  Sebastian reluctantly muttered, trying to jump ahead again. For a long time, no one spoke.  One of the cloaked ones got up and left, muttering disappointed.  Ewald was soon to follow.  

“My my…” Lusine broke the silence.  “Ten sovereigns and thirty silvers-”

“Ten-fifty.” The Orlesian accented one spoke up.  He looked toward the others, challenging them to outbid him. His dark eyes made darker by the unpleasant gleam in them.  He leered at her, eying her up and down with want and greed.  

“Ten-fifty it is!” Lusine's voice bubbled up.  Greed powering her glee as she wrote something quickly in her ledger.  The others sighed, grumbling beneath their voices.  

“Rather enjoyed that… but Ten-fifty… man must be out of his mind.” The elder one whispered a tad too loudly to Bran.  “Come now, let's head back to the Keep.”  

'Keep? Was that?' She took a closer inspection and noticed the wrinkles around his eyes, imagined a crown on his head.  Even if she couldn’t see his face she could still sort of make out what he looks like based on the contours. The Viscount? It explained why he came with the Seneschal.  

“-I can arrange your visit to be next week.  We will prepare her and have her listen in on some of our more experienced workers.” Lusine informed the Orlesian.

“No-no. Leave her completely unaware.  I’d much rather teach her myself.” The look he gave her made her skin crawl.  She wanted to punch him and throw up all at once.  

She swiped at her face, her hand coming away wet as she couldn’t stop the shaky breath she took in. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. She repeated the mantra in her head.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she jumped to see Sebastian standing up.  Something protective in those bright blue eyes. “Thirteen sovereigns.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this insatiable desire to take a piss out of my home state anytime I can, especially in fanfiction. I mean NJ has some great places and all, but it's just _terrible_ for everything else. Don't ever come here guys, unless you happen to live here like me in which case... -shrugs- you're stuck. 
> 
> That aside, this chapter took a bit to finish. I got sick last weekend and I've been recovering while still going to work. I was just exhausted! But it's coming under control now. 
> 
> Oh hey, occasionally I post updates and teasers for this fic and others on tumblr. Mostly I reblog Dragon Age stuff or cute cats and memes I find funny or interesting but my tumblr is: http://comavampure.tumblr.com/ In case you guys want to follow or check out things. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter! Let me know what you think or if any part was confusing. This was definitely a scene-jumper chapter which was intentional and needed for the express purpose of moving the timeline forward.


	7. Bad Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the fabled deflowering don't always go as planned.

“Okay!  New plan.” Lena grumbled to herself as she hefted the empty ale cask up the stairs to the small crawl space that was barely big enough for her to walk through without bumping her head on the ceiling.  It was the floor between the top floor and the roof, that she normally used to get to the roof to lay in the sun during the day and absorb as much vitamin D as possible.  Lena had a healthy light golden glow now thanks to her efforts, something she never had back home.  Because back home she stayed indoors, in front of a computer screen and would hiss whenever she had to step outside due to her medically induced photophobia.  Now though, she was forced into the sun or risk vitamin deficiency. She still hissed, but the forced interaction with the daylight made the pain in her eyes a little less.  Especially as she wore her glasses whenever she sunbathed.

Now though, she pushed the empty ale cask into place by the others in the darkness of the crawl space.  Madam Lusine wouldn’t miss these casks.  They normally reused the casks and made more cheap ale in the bigger casks down in the cellar and would fill up these smaller casks and bring them up as needed.  These casks in particular had something wrong with them.  Either there was a leaky spigot, or a hole.  They were easily fixed but they had other casks to use so they rarely used these. Thus, Lena felt justified in borrowing them.  

Not stealing.  And if you claimed she was stealing, she would vehemently say otherwise and sing at the top of her lungs “I am not a thief!” end of story.

“Lye.  Make all the lye.”  She grumbled as she set the rocks and bricks into the bottom of each wooden casks followed by a layer of straw.  She had collected these supplies in her travels around Kirkwall, especially now that she knew how to get to Darktown and back.  She was really careful about traveling to Darktown and exploring select areas before running back to the Rose and relative safety.  She even began venturing to Lowtown.  All of this because this week she had a bit more free time.

Part of the stipulation of her purchase was she had to “rest” before her deflowering come this Saturday.  It behooved her to come clean about not being a virgin, especially considering Sebastian paid thirteen crowns for her, but this meant a good hefty chunk of her debt was now gone.

Of course the full 13 wasn’t going straight to her debt.  Only six sovereigns went to her debt.  The rest was Lusine and Harlan’s profit.  A shitty deal if you asked her but that meant they were off her back and she was now only in debt 14 gold.  Still a ridiculous amount but she felt a bit more positive about being able to pay it off.

You know who else was off her back?  Jethann, Idunna, Serendipity, and Faith.  

“You have to understand dear, Viveka told us how you objected to becoming one of us.” Serendipity told her as Lena sat in her room.  Part of the week of rest was also so she could sit in the rooms and listen in on some of the 'exchanges' to learn how to have sex behind a curtain. So she was paired with the premium workers.  She’d sit with them in their room as they prepared for the night and listen as they entertained.   

Lena greatly approved of this practice.  She’d have spank bank material for weeks.

Serendipity was first and the mean streak she expected out of him was gone.  Especially as he did himself up, slipped on his padded breast band and scarves.  He even taught her how to do her own makeup.  Kohl gently applied to the edges of her eyelids to make her eyes pop and a bit of blush and makeup. Not that Lena didn’t already know how but it was nice to be be shown.  

“So you guys were under the assumption I thought I was better than you?” Lena muttered to Idunna whose gaudy gold scarves and purple painted lips mismatched but created an appearance that drew your eye.

“I didn’t much care for you to be honest, but you did have this air about you.” Idunna said, cleaning up after a patron left her chambers.  Lena happily helped re-set the bed, despite the scent of sex in the air.  

“Like you were disgusted by us.”  Jethann clarified when she sat in with him. Ninette pouted and admonished him upon learning he had been intentionally mean.

“And to think, you used me!  I am so sorry, had I known-” Her Orlesian accented voice was sweet and she genuinely was a nice person.  Even if she was cheating on her husband with an elven prostitute.  

“Think nothing of it.  I’m over it.”  Lena assured her.  She liked Ninette.  She was here every Tuesday and Thursday, and only ever went to Jethann.  They weren’t obnoxious and actually, the two insisted she _watch_ them couple.  It was loving and cute and not at all like watching a business exchange like the others had sounded like.  There was actual care and love between Jethann and Ninette.  

Lena had not been able to help herself and wrote a note to Ninette, slipping it in her dress pocket warning her of accepting flowers from anonymous senders. It probably wouldn’t do anything, but she tried.

It was an interesting learning experience sitting in with the premium workers, but now she had a bit of free time.  By a bit, she meant a lot.  She was up at noon and worked on her little project.  Truthfully she’d been collecting the ashes to save for weeks.  This was something she had wanted to do if only to make sure she had soap on hand rather than having to buy it.  But if she could make a lot of soap… then she’d be golden. The only obstacle now being, she had no source of fat.  

Ashes was easy to come by, but animal fat was rare.  Like she said meat was expensive and with meat came the fat.  The livestock here weren’t as buffed up with hormones and grains to make them fat and juicy like they were back home.  The meat was lean and if ever had fat.  Between rams, nugs, cows, and even the wild birds they sometimes had… there was no steady source that wasn’t already being ingested.

Except for the food that _wasn’t_ finished.

She eyed the pot of day old cooked meat.  She had boiled it if only to get the residual fat off it.  No one was in the kitchen except for the girls preparing breakfast and they left her alone by the stove, boiling her day old food in a pot and straining it out into a ceramic pot that she carried up to the attic and set aside for what little fat, and eventually tallow, she could glean from that.  It probably won’t be much but it’s enough to start.  Now if she could get her hands on live or recently killed animals, she could get the leaf fat.  Leaf fat was the layer of fat around the kidneys.  It was large fatty chunks.  She could of course take from other locations on the kill, but the kidneys would be her first selection.  

This was her plan.  Make soap, sell the soap, use the proceeds to pay off her debt. Then once her debt is settled she can concentrate on the Black Emporium.  Maybe even see if Varric knows someone who can get her in.  She’d likely need a good amount of coin for that though.  

In the end it came down to money. Soap would be her source of money, if she can get production started anyway.

With a bucket of water in each hand, Lena ascended one last time into the crawl space. She poured the water into the first cask and set the bucket under the spigot.  Collection of the lye wouldn’t start just yet so she covered the top of the cask up and left it to stew.  She would come back the next day to begin the draining process and adding more water.  

“Lena, you’re supposed to be resting.” Came Madam Luisine’s voice once Lena closed the door to the crawl space.

“Uh…”  She eyed the elder woman.  “I was. Just outside.” She fibbed.  But the sweat on her brow gave her away.

“Come now. If you intend to be up, then I believe it is time you had a proper bath.” Luisine chided and gestured for Lena to follow her.

Lena quirked up.  A proper bath?

They had a private steaming bath for a small group drawn in the Powder Room.  Lusine paid for it.  Lena had no qualms about this.  A good right proper bath even if she had to share it with the women she hated.  She could already feel the layer of sweat and grime itching to be peeled away with some soap.

Once Lena was in the tub, the others climbed in and they lounged.  Lusine, Katriela, Cora, Idunna, Faith, Viveka, and Sabina were all present. Oils, herbs, and salts had been added to the bath producing a calming scent and bubbles that tickled Lena’s skin, softening it.  She pruned much faster than she would have in a normal bath.  

“Are you nervous?” Sabina stretched her legs out in the water.

“What for?”

“For your first time!  I remember mine, there were rose petals on the sheets and he serenaded me.” Faith cooed, splashing water as she shifted closer. Faith was Ferelden given her accent.

“Dear... reciting Andraste’s mabari to the tune of a lute is _not_ serenading.” Idunna gave an airy laugh. “Now...if you want real serenading…”  Idunna smirked and eyed Lena with a knowing grin. “I can easily show you the wonders of the East.” There was something off about her voice then.  It resonated around but it also was _wrong._

“You can?” Faith shifted closer to Idunna, a glazed look in her eye.

“There are things I can do with my voice than can ensnare even the highest born noble to my chambers.” Idunna proclaimed proudly, her gaze not once leaving Lena’s.

“I call bullshit.” Lena scoffed and lounged back.  Idunna blinked, perturbed.  “All I hear is your voice echoing around us.”

“Really?” Idunna shifted closer to her.

“Idunna- stop it.” Lusine warned from her perch as she scrubbed at her hair.

“Hmmm… must be because you’re a dwarf.” Idunna muttered.

“Did I miss something?”

Faith blinked rapidly as whatever echo that had been added to Idunna’s voice faded and she shook her head. “You-you did that thing again!”

“It’s only magic, Faith.” Idunna laughed.

“More like blood magic.” Lena whispered, squinting.  Sabina being the closest to her stiffened and turned to her.  None of the others had heard.

“Ladies? I think it’s time.”  Lusine called everyone’s attention.  Lena hadn’t been paying attention to their conversations.  Instead her own maintenance was taken care of, or so she thought.  

“Viveka. Cora.  If you would.”  Lusine gestured to Lena and the two in question shifted in the water toward Lena.  

Stiff and cornered she glowered, especially at Viveka. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, dear.  We’re only going to help you bathe.” Cora tried to calm her.

“Oh yes.” Viveka rolled her eyes.

“I can bathe just fine on my own.” Lena went to climb out.

“But this will be a special occasion! It’s your first time! We have to make sure you’re presentable.”  Faith beamed at her.  Precious Faith.  Lena now understood why Carver would one day favor her as his preferred prostitute. She was in some ways, like Merrill.  

“I can do anything special on my own.”  Lena just managed to climb out, only for Viveka’s grip to yank her back into the water. She sputtered and splashed, kicking at Lusine's niece and growled. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Oh sorry. My hand slipped.” Viveka sneered.

“Girls _."_  Madam’s voice was terse.

Cora grabbed Lena’s other arm tightly and Lena attempted to yank it out.  She was hit by how ridiculously weak she was compared to the others. Tight lipped, she sat still and glared as the others moved in closer with wash clothes in their hands.

No.  Not wash cloths.  A smooth stone with some type of mixture on it.  

“It will only hurt a little.”  Viveka snickered as Sabina was first to rub the stone against her.  Aloe vera and sour milk wafting up to her senses.

“YEOOOOOWWWWWWWCCH”  Lena howled as the stone was abrasive and rubbed in circles.  It peeled the top most layer of her skin, or what she thought was skin.  Rolls of dead skin, dirt, and grime that had built up were scraped off in one go, leaving behind raw pink sensitive skin. Sabina stepped back allowing one of the others to continue as she rinsed her stone.   

“No!  OW OW OW FUCKING SISTER MARY JOSEPH FUCK! STOP IT!”  Lena hollered, struggling but they held her still as they began stripping the dirt off her skin.  It was the single most painful experience of her life, and she’d had her wisdom teeth removed without any anesthesia.

Roughly thirty minutes later, Lena sat on a stool, shivering and red skinned all over.  With raw and touch sensitive skin, she avoided the others as even water caused her to hiss in slight discomfort. The bath had been abandoned as the water turned now muddy brown with the sheer amount of dirt they stripped off her. The others enjoyed the steam whike they dried off before dressing.  Lena sat on her stool as Lusine began coating her back with a lotion like mixture that had her hissing at first until the soothing quality kicked in.

“It’s to make you softer and pleasant to the touch.  Your patron will appreciate it greatly come Saturday.” Luisine explained, her fingers working it into the dwarf’s skin.  

“I hate you all.”  Selena hissed as she shivered, arm holding up her bosom.

“We’ve all been through it.  It’s not as bad as it seems.”  Katriela called out.  “Well… except Viveka.”  The other girls laughed, Viveka’s face becoming red.  

Interesting _._ Lena smirked as she watched the other girls make fun of Viveka.  Lusine's disapproval evident but she said nothing as she combed Lena’s hair.  

 

* * *

 

Lusine gave her one of the standard service rooms to sleep in until Saturday. She was to sleep, lounge and eat to ensure she had the energy.  Instead she made her way to Lowtown at the crack of dawn.  Her tight curly mass of hair was bouncing in the morning light as she took the staircase of the damned down to Lowtown.  She followed through the market and asked one of the merchants where she might find the Hanged Man, after a few coppers dropped he pointed her in the right direction.

Lena was wearing a new dress she had bought herself in the Dwarven Enclave of Hightown, with leggings, proper leather boots that fit remarkably well,  and a woolen shawl.  The chill was quite strong and it was made worse by the wind.

Upon entering the Hanged Man, she was hit by the smell of sweat and cheap ale.  The bartender was a young blond man whom she’d seen at the Rose a few times.  He did not recognize her, nor did Varric when she spotted and approached him at a table near the back with a mug and a slew of papers on the table. He looked at her briefly and then gave a smile. “Can I help you Messere...”

“It’s Madame Selena to you.” She cocked her hip out and smirked. For a moment Varric was confused, which was her intention.  She was wearing makeup as well.  Not how the workers wore it what with their bright colors of red, blue, purple, and yellow and far too much kohl.  Instead it was subtle on her.  Smokey eyes, a touch of lipstick and blush around the edges to make her cheekbones pop.  It was not overdone and was what she’d call the “natural” look back home when really it wasn’t.

“Selena?”  Varric’s mouth parted for a fraction of a second before he smiled brightly.  “Come on.  To my room.” She waited for him to collect his papers before following him to his private room where he plopped them on his table and turned just as she closed the door, leaning against it. Her arms and legs crossed as she regarded him. “You look different today.”

“How very observant of you.”  Lena fluttered her eyelashes and gazed at him through them, trying for the coy look. Varric’s lips twitched.  “I have some good news, to share.”

“Oh?  Come to share have you?” Varric gestured for her to sit down.  “Ale?”  

“Yes please.  It seems my maidenhood is about to be taken.”  A lazy smirk came over her as she pushed off the door, sauntering toward her favorite dwarf and grabbing the goblet of ale and sipping at it.

“Congratulations are in order?” They tapped their goblets together, but Varric didn’t drink beyond a single sip.  

“They are indeed. But that's not the only reason why I came here.” She took a large gulp of ale and set it down, shifting closer to Varric.

“I can only imagine why’d you come all this way.” Varric met her halfway.

“Oh you can imagine, eh?” She teased.  He didn’t stop her as her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders and she perched on tiptoes hovering just before him.  Their breath mingling as she tried to press their lips together but he pulled back with a grin.  “That’s not funny.” She tried to chide him. Dark brown hues glowered at his mirthful golden brown. Lena attempted to pull away but Varric had a grip on her hips trapping her against him.  “Varric?”  She warned.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Setting the pace.” His voice took that deep murmur, sending pleased shivers up her spine even as all he did was speak.  His bare fingers trailed up her back inching scandalously slow, causing her chest to press closer to him accentuating the natural arch of her back.

“Varric.” She hissed.  She tried, again to kiss him but he wasn’t having it. Damnit - Oh! Heat rose in her cheeks as Varric pressed a chaste kiss to the palm of her hand, not once breaking eye contact.  It was too perfect, too romantic and altogether too cheesy for Lena.  Her cheeks hurt as she smiled and then giggled which resulted in an audible unseemly snort.  A hand slapped over her mouth, mortified. “I-oh shit.”

Varric snickered into her hand, shoulders shaking. The moment ruined but he chuckled and she giggled. They pulled away, if a bit reluctant.  

“Sorry… it was a bit much.”  Lena was still grinning.  

“Here I was trying to be romantic.” Varric sighed.

“You were!”  Lena giggled.  “But I’m not used to romance.  It's a bit cheesy if you ask me.”

“Cheesy?”

“I’m used to dick jokes and crass flirting.” Lena fanned herself, her cheeks still warm to the touch. "Romance is not my forte." 

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Varric shook his head.

 _Next time_. She was sure her face was going to crack with how much smiling she was doing.

“So why are you really here?  Surely my roguish charm didn’t compel you all the way here?”

“You’d be surprised what your roguish charms can compel me to do.” Selena retorted with a single eyebrow raised.

“Oh?”  Varric hummed, pleased.

“But!”  She coughed, looking away. “How’s the work on the crossbow? Did you contact Bianca?”

“Already wanting to cash in on that favor?” Varric questioned, a sudden coldness from him.  

“What? No. I just want to see this crossbow in action!” 'And also sate my curiosity if Bianca and you have clicked yet.' She was well aware she was setting herself up for heartbreak.  Bianca and Varric were bound to happen, and though she wished Varric wouldn’t fall for Bianca...there was no sure fire way to stop it.  Plus she promised herself she wouldn’t interfere and stay far from the storyline she knew. The note to Ninette didn’t count.  “I don’t know what alterations you’re going to make but if you needed a smith with mechanical skills… well I can only just picture what it will be able to do.”  She gushed.

Varric didn’t look convinced but he answered her. “So far, Messere Davri has some ideas. We’ve spoken once since you gave me your glowing review of her skills.”

“Yeah? That’s great!”

“She also has no idea who you are.” Varric added.

Oh. Lie lie!  “Not surprising. I told you, I only knew _of_ her and her inventions.” She smiled innocently, trying to appear nonchalant. It worked for the most part because in the next moment he invited Lena to stay for an early supper. _Supper with Varric Tethras._  Food was the way to her heart, and Varric already had an advantage so it just endeared her to him even more. Conversation was light.  He asked about what she did before coming to Kirkwall, and she decided not to lie.

Okay she admits she had to doctor it a bit, but she told him she managed the books for now defunct trade families in the Anderfels, hence why she came to Kirkwall seeking for work. In reality she managed the books for the middleman between schools and the many families seeking financial aid. It was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things but it left her managing hundreds of thousands of dollars on a daily basis. See not too different, she told herself. 

In turn she asked Varric questions about what he did, despite knowing the answers already.  She was able to ask specific questions now prompted by what he told her.  Like for instance how he started writing his books, who taught him to write, and who was his editor.  His editor was a cutthroat human woman Coterie member.  

Of course the meal came to an end much too fast and surprisingly Varric was the one to try to drag it out by escorting her back to the Rose, claiming he was worried she’d get lost.  There were no more shared kisses though, which Lena missed as she rolled over in the mattress of the standard service room.  She did however cradle her hand, the same one Varric had kissed.

 

* * *

 

Saturday, she woke to a bundle of nerves.  Once sent off to the Powder Room for another bath, thankfully this time alone, she dipped her fingers inside herself feeling around for the string.  It was something she should have checked every month, but it had slipped her mind.  The presence of the IUD was calming as she felt the string was still very much present.

Dwarves had a lower fertility rate, but she wasn’t sure she even counted as a full dwarf because she wasn’t born as one. Still becoming pregnant was not on her list of things to do so she was glad she had some semblance of birth control that was far more effective than anything Thedas had. Especially as Lena had found Sabina bent over the chamberpot with morning sickness, the elven woman swearing her to secrecy about her state.

With an early lunch already settled, she sat in the room waiting.  Lusine came in and gave her some advice, that she paid no attention too.  Instead she eyed the parchment in her hand.

She’d done some research on Sebastian, more specifically on what he liked to do. She’d asked the other workers over the course of the week for the things he had asked to do but they had refused or were uncomfortable doing.  While some assured her he wouldn’t ask to choke her on her very first time, Lena wrote it down anyway.  Choking - interesting.  

The list was painfully plain if you asked her but some of the workers had looked ashamed when admitting the things they had done behind closed doors just for some coin.  Katriela had no shame, she did almost everything he asked but that was because he paid her extra in gifts whenever he returned to her.  

Gifts!  She’d completely forgotten about that possibility. The one common trait in most courtesan stories was the patron leaving their favored courtesan gifts.  She could totally do this if it meant she got to choose which patrons she took.

Lena had a burning desire to do what the others couldn’t for Sebastian, even if it meant having to fake being a virgin. She could do that.  Shock, discomfort, and pain and eventually she could show her pleasure, if there was any and if not well she can fake that too.

When Sebastian came in, she was on the chaise chair, looking over her list and waiting. He was wearing that brown cloak again and once the door was closed and locked, something that had never been done with the other girls, she stood.

“So… I feel like I have to thank you-” She began.

“Don’t.” Sebastian mumbled as he removed his cloak, tossing it onto one of the chairs and then slumping into it.  His brows furrowed as he sagged further into the chair and his fingers worked at his temples.

“Rough day?”

His slitted eyes glared at her.

“As you are aware of who I am and my current predicament, I feel I can tell you that yes, I had a rough day.  Being able to sneak out of the Chantry dorms only ever happens Tuesdays early in the morn.  So… to come here, on last Wednesday and last Thursday and much less today has been very trying.  All for what....” He grumbled. “To warn you.”  He cut himself off, shook his head.  His locks shook loose hung over his piercing eyes that fixed her with a stare.

“Warn me? Why?” Lena was squinting.

“I told you, I wished to speak with you in private but you wouldn’t let me.” Sebastian rose, the simple tunic he wore stripped off in one go.  “I had been invited to your Auction as I have for others.”  

Sebastian's built form distracted Lena for a moment. Hard defined muscles shifted beneath his darkskin as he stalked forward.  Her grip on the list tightened.  With a squeak she was off the chaise and backing around the chair, Sebastian chasing after her in slow steps.

"So… you’re that frequent of a spender here.”

“Yes.” He stepped around the chaise, the light of the hearth now unobscured highlighted a very obvious bulge in his trousers.  Lena couldn’t look away. Impressive _._

“Oh? Th-thanks.” She stuttered distracted as his trousers fell. Dear Cosmos have mercy if those smalls come down-  The smalls dropped and Lena snapped her eyes up to his face. Ve-very impressive.

“I had no intention of forcing you into this but I nee-”  Sebastian took a deep breath.  “I require your services, as you can see.”  Lena backed into the wardrobe in the room, it shook and she side stepped trying to avoid the advancing chantry soon-to-be-brother. He continued following her.  “I realize this is your first time, but I will be gentle.”

“Oh? I feel like I should be grateful then.” Lena’s nerves were frazzled, her composure tested as she tried to only look at his eyes and not his package.

“But I should warn you.”

“Warn me? Again… for what?” Lena could not keep her composure as he fixed her with an intense look, pinning her in place.  

“There are things...certain acts that I am unable to control myself.  When I am inside you, I may-” His cheeks reddened as shame came over him.  “I may ask you to participate in certain-”

“Fantasies?” She offered, feeling her confidence rise. 

“In a sort.” Sebastian muttered.

“Kinks. Fetishes?”  Lena kept going. “Desires, proclivities, fixations?” Sebastian halted, wary of her. “So things like these?” She held the list up in front of her, as a barrier.  Prince Vael stiffened, eying the list of kinks she had learned he was into.  

“Where did you-”

“I asked around.  You know to prepare myself.” Lena forced a laugh but she coughed.

“Do not be frightened. I would not ask you to do these on your first time.  I realize they must have prepared you but I didn’t think they would tell you about these.” Sebastian gulped.  “Forgive me, I know it may be a lot to take in.”

Lena’s gaze dropped low and she grinned.  A lot to take in, indeed.

“But, you have nothing to worry.”

“Yeah. Okay so first thing.  Before you try to pounce.”  Selena took a deep breath.  She felt like she owed him, he did try to warn her and she’d been dismissive. He was being straightforward and nice. Had this been her first time to be touched, _touched for the very first time,_ she would certainly appreciate his forthcoming nature. “I’m _not_ a virgin.”  His mouth dropped open, brows furrowed as anger and shame filtered through his expressions. “Before you run out there and demand your coin back, you might want to listen to what I have to offer.”

“Speak. Quickly.”

“I may not have my maidenhead but what I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a dream for people like you. If you let me utilize these skills, I can make you a very _happy_ man by the end of the night. If you don’t well… you’ll always wonder what could have been, what I could have shown you.  Because this list is darn right _tame_ to what I can do for you.  Spanking, pfft I do that in my spare time.  Choking, been there done that.  Blindfolds...too easy.” Lena smirked as she tossed the list aside and crossed her arms.  Pride overcoming her as Sebastian’s anger wore off and he considered her words. “I just have one little question before we move forward.”

“And that is?” Sebastian released a heady breath.

Lena licked the length of fingers slowly and stepped right into Sebastian.  She was more than a foot shorter, coming to his chest, but it meant she didn’t have to reach too far down.  Her hand slid up his thigh and fondled his scrotum, one finger dipping back to tease his back entrance.  Sebastian’s eyes filtered closed, a small moan slipped out as he held onto her for stability. Carefully, and expertly she teased him, his pants coming heavy as she worked his hole over and then her other hand joined, sliding softly over his length before gripping it. “Are you the one being tied up and choked, or am I?”

She breathed into his ear as he hunched over. When his precum leaked out, she used it to lubricate her hands, grasping at him.  Her hands were still soft, callouses hadn’t yet formed and so it was like silk to Sebastian.

“Maker…” He groaned.

She pumped her hand up and down and slipped one finger inside him up to the knuckle, his legs spread, giving her more access. She licked her lips and bit at his neck.  For too long there was no other sound but his moans and the slapping sound of her hand thrusting in time to her pumping.

She let go when she felt him tense and in his confusion pushed him against the wall and dropped to her knees and engulfed his cock with her mouth.  Globules of her saliva dribbled along his length, her tongue swirling around the rim of his head and pressing on his cockslit. She hollowed out her cheeks as she stared up at him only to wink. He groaned the moment she began humming as it made him release with a guttural cry, his hips bucking into her and his bursting erection causing her to gag only once before she lapped up his cum, swallowing every bit of it greedily.

“So?” Her voice came out hoarse; she coughed and grinned whole standing.  She was still waiting for an answer.  She gave him a second to recuperate and when he remembered the question he chuckled and smiled.

“Me… definitely me.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm in a unique position for next chapter. Typically i don't ever write one whole chapter that will be strictly smut. However, the way I ended this chapter leaves me with the option to have a full chapter of smut, LenaxSebastian. Don't worry this pairing is going nowhere, it is literally just sex. The main pairing is definitely still VarricxLena. 
> 
> However if I do the smut for next chapter it will be a montage/collage of Sebastian being the only patron of Lena's even after the "deflowering." Basically to showcase some uh interesting headcanons I have about Sebastian and to introduce his subplot. So I lied, it's not a whole chapter of just smut, there is some plot, it's just not the main plot. 
> 
> BUT I don't have to do a smut chapter, I can literally just leave it as a mention later on and we don't get to enjoy submissive-bottom Sebastian being topped by a female dwarf OC. 
> 
> So I look to you, faithful readers! Smut Chapter, or No Smut Chapter?


	8. Carnal Consent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A contract for informed consent signed in cum and sweat (Or Sebastian becomes Lena's submissive).

After her fingers and mouth had him spending himself down her throat, she had taken a moment to retrieve parchment, ink and quill, and strange spectacles that she perched on her nose, making her already large eyes even bigger. Her fingers quickly scribbled on the parchment in swirling script. She did not use the whole side of the quill to write, only the tip, resulting in very thin lettering. For a few moments there was nothing but the scratch of her quill on parchment.

Sebastian leaned forward, wishing to see what exactly she was writing. She stiffened but continued.

"Will you wish to dominate me?" Came her inquiry but she did not look up from the parchment.

"Pardon?" He breathed, sipping at the ale that she had poured for him.

"You said you're going to be tied up, but sometimes some submissives will want to switch roles. I'm perfectly okay with this but I have different limits." She spoke while only glancing his way to make sure he paid attention. "For instance, absolutely no anal fisting is to be done on me. But I have no problem doing it to you. Or say you wanted to to be deprived of orgasm, I can do that and you can do that to me."

Words he had only read in private in Starkhaven or spoken in hushed whispers behind closed doors, yet she spoke as if they were commonplace. She was brazen and unaffected, and she did not censor herself.

Submissive. Limits. Anal fisting? He gaped at her unaffected manner, his own cheeks reddened as he surreptitiously looked around the room to ensure no others were present, despite knowing he had locked the door himself.

What creature had he stumbled upon? Was she truly a dwarf? All dwarves he had interacted with were strictly conservative, barring of course Denier. They flirt yes and were unnecessarily crass but never of subject matters of this nature.

She stared at him over the rim of her spectacles and sighed, placing her quill down. All together she looked the serene school teacher, explaining something that he should know and should have studied but hadn't. “Sebastian, I want to know what your limits are so I don’t cross them, ever.”

Sebastian eyed her serious gaze and rigid posture. “And if I want you to cross those limits?”

Her eyes narrowed and her shoulders heaved as she took a breath. “I don't think you understand. Limits are acts you would never want to do. If you at some future date want to try one of these limits...we will discuss it then but for now, as I can see you're well acquainted with some aspects of my specialty.” She rose and sat beside him. “The limits are there to make sure I never hurt you. I don’t know what the others did for you but if you want this… to begin and continue, I _need_ to know what your limits are. I want to make this a _safe_ place. And there is no need to be bashful or ashamed for having little or no limits. Everyone has their kinks… Some more than others.” Her lips quirked up.

His cheeks flushed, shame filling him. He shouldn't do this. It was one thing to occasionally indulge but this...what she was suggesting. He could only imagine the disappointment and shock in Elthina’s eyes should she find out that not only was he still visiting whorehouses but he was a deviant.

She must have seen his trepidation because she rubbed his bare arm. “There’s _nothing_ to be ashamed of. Plus with this contract you get my sworn oath of secrecy, which will be legally binding.”

“What?” He balked.

“The stuff we’re going to do. I realize not everyone will understand it. And most will fear it and deem it deviant. Which is why they hide it. But behind closed doors even the highest born will partake in these pleasures. I would even say the men who seem to be most in control...want to be dominated. To relinquish the reins and feel.” She whispered into his ear and he could not help the immediate reaction. “Powerless.”

He spoke with a shuddering breath, “You must understand, what you’re saying…” Fingers gripped at the blanket she had tossed over him. “No one has approached it quite like you.”

“Not surprising. You southerners tend to be quite conservative.” She smiled, picking the quill up and once again putting ink to paper this contract. “The Qunari approach it similarly to me, but their methods are rather… lacking in setting up boundaries and going into it well informed. So if there is a word or phrase I use that you don't know, please ask me and I’ll explain it to you. I have no doubt there are things I know you have never heard of.”

From there, they had spent much of that evening discussing terminology, what was okay for her to perform on him and what was acceptable to perform on her. Kissing as innocent as it was, she deemed off limits. When he’d asked, she wouldn’t explain and quickly turned the conversation toward what else she could do for him that night, as she pointed out his growing erection.

Truthfully he was more than fine. He had relieved himself, it was the one thing he craved. However all that talk, had deeply affected him. Especially when she found the leather straps. “Let’s test these out, shall we?”

He had used leather straps on Leonato once, the man had assured him he was more than alright being bound. However when he got into it, he wouldn’t let the man go once he was _there_. On the pinnacle of an orgasm and he just kept going. Afterwards Leon refused to let him use them again.

“Alright.” He swallowed as he situated himself on the bed, eager to see the leather straps on him.

“Another thing.” She called his attention as she popped the leather strips around both his wrists in an intricate knot. “You are to call me Mama.” She instructed as his hands were bound.

“Why?”

“Because when you’re good to Mama, Mama is good to you.” She responded in a sing song voice to a tune he had never heard. “It’s to distinguish the role I play. Within these walls, I am Mama. Out there however, I am Lena. Sometimes Madame Lena. But here, in this safe place I am Mama. Say it.”

“Mama.” He spoke her new title. His accent far thicker as it brought images of his own mother. To say such a word was wrong, blasphemous within the confines of a whore’s chambers, yet altogether thrilling if the tugging in his abdomen and cock was any indication.

 _Mama_ froze when he said it, her fingers gently running down the length of his forearms. “Hmmmm.” She hummed appreciatively as she stared down at him with a carnal grin. The flick of her wicked tongue wet her lips. “Say it again.”

“Ma-ma.” He elongated the word, amused by how her eyelashes fluttered and her mouth pert open. Was she aroused by his voice? She closed her eyes and groaned, her fingers dipping under her skirts to yank her smalls down her legs, boots kicked off. She was still fully clothed, where he was completely nude. She reached to test his restraints, satisfied he wouldn't be able to escape easily.

“Do me a favor.”

“Yes, Mama?” This time chuckling as he strained against the leather straps, testing them. It was a good knot, not one he recognized.

“Just talk. Say anything, recite anything. I don't care. Just be a _good boy_ for me and speak.” Her short legs straddled him and he grunted as she wiggled, his hardening length brushing against the moist heat between her legs.

“What would you like me to say?” He questioned as she got comfortable atop him, painfully aware of how easily he could attempt to buck into her.

“Anything. For fucks sake, say filthy things to me if you want. Tell me how you fucked Katriela, how you want Adriano to take you like a mabari mutt from behind and rough-ah!” She yelped as he bucked his hips upward into her, sliding along her lips and settling against her opening. “Ooooh you're _naughty_. Mama didn't say you could do that.” Her voice lowered, her curls and waves falling to frame her face. She bit her bottom lip as her hips rocked forward and then back, her lips sliding along his length before gripping him. Short yet strong and soft fingers pressed his hips down to prevent any more movement on his part.

Each time she slid she teasingly allowed him to spear her entrance only for her to slide up and away. Back and forth the dwarva seductress teased him until he was panting and whining. She chuckled darkly, “Next time do only what you're told.” She let his hips go. He would have done as she said but he was so desperate and he wasted no time in bucking up again spearing once again into her.

Sebastian regretted his hasty decision as she climbed off him. A low desperate whine strained through his throat. “Wait mama please.”

“No no. First punishment I guess. Should have guessed you'd need training. You're much too used to lax women and men who are unfamiliar with rules.” Mama Lena chuckled and she jumped off the bed. He could only watch her movements for so long before she dug around in the chest at the end of the bed. “You did say belting was alright.” Came her laugh as he heard the tight snap of leather against leather.

Sebastian gulped. Maker help him, he was a _naughty_ boy and he begged to be punished. “Mama.”

“Second lesson. Safewords or if you’re from the Qun, watchwords.” Lena climbed atop again, turned his hips to display his bare arse to her. “A safeword is used to signal the end of an activity on your part, as something you cannot handle anymore. So to alert me say that word. I’d let you pick your own safeword but it has to be something you won’t scream out in the throes of passion.”

“It will end the activity?” He wanted to clarify. “As in we will no longer do that particular activity again?”

“No. Unlike the Qunari watchword, Safewords are just to give you a break to catch your breath. But if you know you can handle it and more, I wouldn’t use it. For today you probably won’t use it.” She was patient and far more knowledgeable about this. He wondered what else he was missing that she might be able to teach him.

“What is the safeword?” Sebastian’s arms strained as he tried to look back at _Mama_ , her hand petting his arse. He clenched, wanting her wayward fingers deep inside him again.

She chuckled, her fingers teasing his arsehole. He stiffened, his legs spreading to encourage her. “There are three safewords. Red means stop, means you do not like what is being done at all and never want to do it again. Yellow means you need a break, either because it’s too intense or you need water or just to relax a bit.” she used the leather belt to lightly run up his spine. “You got it?”

Sebastian nodded.

“There is one more, Green but that’s to let me know you want to continue. Ultimately you have the control, even if I’m the one tying you up and whipping you.” She smiled. “Now… for your punishment.” She raised the belt. Sebastian’s body tensed, darkened eyes watched over his shoulder as the belt came down rapidly, stinging his skin.

“More.” He rumbled to her amusement.

“No.”

“ _What?_ I thought-”

“It’s about reciprocity.” She spoke. “It’s a system that has never failed me in these situations.” Exactly how many times has she done this? “I do something for you, you do something for me. You be a good boy, I reward you, but if you’re a bad naughty boy, you get a punishment.”

“I’m paying you.” He growled. “Does that not count-” He hissed as her hand slapped his arse cheek, right where the belt had stung. The already reddened skin warming and blooming as she hit him in three quick successions, each harder than the last. The sound was vulgar to his ears, making him groan and clench. His cock had already been at full mast and was now twitching unbearably. With a shuddering breath he remained silent as he understood. He had to be naughty to earn the punishment. He swallowed a grin and waited for her to speak again.

“Don’t interrupt me.” She seethed glaring down at him as she tightened the straps only to loosen them after a moment. “It’s rude. Didn’t the Chantry ever teach you manners?” She chuckled and shifted.

“Yes, mama.” He breathed.

“Now… where were we?” She cocked a grin at him, pushed him to his back and straddled him again. “Be a good boy now, or else you’ll get punished again.” Mama leered her hips wiggling until he once again was settled against her heat.

Sebastian wanted to be punished but he behaved, _for now_.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later found him returning to the Rose. After his rather steep purchase he could not afford his usual weekly visits as he had been but eventually he could not stay away. His growing affliction, need, and desire could not be ignored. So he donned his brown cloak and slipped out of the chantry in the early morn hours, lest he stumble on one of the more attractive and younger chantry sisters that would draw his eyes and the unbearable need he was barely keeping in check.

He prayed. Maker did he pray for the strength to quell the carnal beastly desires that rose daily. While his fingers and palms kept him at bay, nothing could compare to being brought to release inside someone else or by other means.

The painted pink rose even in the alleyway came into view and he slipped in. As always, the Rose was winding down as he made his way toward Lusine, but he paused upon seeing the female dwarf on her knees with a rag. She was scrubbing the floor and that gave him pause. Why would she do such a job when she was a whore?

“It's been awhile since we've seen you, Messere.” The Madame drew his attention with her greed filled grin and painted face. “I believe Katriela is available, I shall fetch her.”

His gaze lingered on Lena. The contract she had created came to mind. Would she honor it? “No. I want her.” He muttered lowly but not quietly enough because the dwarf in question heard him and she turned to eye him.

“I'm afraid she isn't for sale anymore. It was a one time-” The Madame explained with a huff.

“Actually Lusine. I'll take him.” Lena rose and grinned widely as she dropped the rag into the bucket.

“Two sovereigns?” Sebastian questioned, keeping eye contact with Lena. She smirked at him and licked her luscious lips that he remembered stretched around his cock.

“I- yes.” Luisine gestured to one of the rooms as he dropped the two gold coins in her hand and he swept off to the room with the loud but quickened steps of Lena trailing after him until she was closing the door and locking it.

“Lena-” He spoke, but fumbled for words as she all but transformed in front of him. Not in the physical sense but her demeanor, her gaze, and her presence alone had him staggering back.

When he had first met her, in Katriela’s room he had mistook her for a child. It wasn’t uncommon to see the bastard children of the whores roam about, but never quite so brave enough as to enter one of the serving rooms. Her eyes large and innocent like, viewing the world as though for the first time. Her unblemished skin pale and shorter stature with her hair curled and bouncing.

He’d been about to call for Katriela when his gaze fell to her bosom, large and pronounced. Perky and malleable. This was no child. Was she a worker? A new whore to the Rose that he had not yet had the pleasure of sinking into?

He had believed the lie that she was a virgin simply because of how she appeared that day and everyday after. But here, in this room she commanded a presence as though she was not the same person. As soon as the door closed her lax smile and gentle nature did an abrupt turn and she gazed at him, expectantly. She did not lift her head to look up at him instead he was expected to take steps back to be eye level with her.

“Undress.” Her voice was stern as her back straightened. The dominating gleam in her eye told him not to disobey. He barely could swallow the lump in his throat as he stripped, eager for her machinations.

He dropped his trousers when something stung against his thighs and he yelped as he took in what she held. _A riding crop?_

“I believe I gave an order. _Undress_.”

“Yes Len-” he grunted as the quick retribution had him shrinking away.

“What did I say to call me?”

“Yes...mama.” His cheeks burned.

“Good boy.” The riding crop tapped his chin.

Whatever she had planned...maker forgive him he wanted it.

* * *

Gasping breaths were the only sound that came from Sebastian, even as he shivered and trembled. The cold breeze coming from the curtained windows prickled his skin. He would have covered himself to recover his modesty but Sebastian's hands were otherwise preoccupied gripping the leather straps that restrained himself against the bedposts. He wasn't trapped, he knew if he wanted to escape and have use of his limbs he could easily free himself. But he did not want to be free; he did not want to escape. Still she had taught him how to free himself from the leather bounds should he truly need to run. Yet there was no place he craved more to be than right there, bound, stretched out, exposed and subjected to her will.

Darkened eyes peered down at her. She was kneeling on the bed, between his trembling legs. Her breath teased the tip of his manhood as she swiped her fingers over him, spreading the frothy white shaving oils.

"From today onward, you will be required to maintain this." Her voice was even and pleasant as she raised the shaving blade. Sebastian's nerve jolted him, fearful of what she'd do until she carefully swiped close to the skin of his privates, the darkened hairs shaved off. His erection strained painfully, begging to be touched again but she ignored it as she continued working with a single minded determination.

He watched her wipe away the excess froth to reveal his cleanly shaven privates. It hadn’t hurt, unlike how it did to do so every morning.

“There, nice and clean. And it lets me see all of you.” She spoke, hovering mere inches from his cock. Her puffs of breath ghosting over the flesh of his head, his manhood twitching in time to her words. He gulped as she watched him, patiently. Her eyes gleamed with a wickedness he had never expected, never dreamed would be on her.

“Mama…” He rasped as she propped herself up on her elbows, face inches from his cock simply breathing on it until she reached out to draw his foreskin down. She placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his head.

“Cock worship.” She mumbled, her head dipping down to lick from his base to his twitching head. She engulfed his length in her mouth and gave it one fresh coating of her saliva before releasing it with a pop. “The little prince is all wet and _weeping,_  if my tongue’s to be trusted.”

Andraste preserve him, he couldn't wait. “Mama, please-hng.” He grunted as her fingers wrapped around his length, sliding up and down. His hips twitched up wanting inside her. But instead of taking his cock in her mouth again, her lascivious tongue wrapped around one of his balls, sucking on it.

Her tongue massaged his balls as she interchanged between them, all the while her fingers worked him closer and closer to the edge.

She switched places with her hands and continued having her wicked way with him. Her teeth grazed lightly and dangerous over the length of his manhood. He tried not to throb but maker help him, it was impossible.

Once again, he tested his bindings. If he slipped his finger through one of the loops he would be free to grasp at the back of her neck and _fuck_ her mouth in wild abandon. Ruthless and jutting into her throat, because he knew she could take all of him. But he knew the rules. Escape only if he did not approve or enjoy what was being done and what Mama Lena was currently doing was most _pleasurable_.

“Hmmm.” She hummed and slurped, the wet sounds of her mouth as she deep throated, only to pull back and release him, teasingly continuing to suck on his head. Her tongue applied pressure to the rim and his cockslit.

He saw white. _So close. Please please._

The pressure released on his cock as she backed off him, leaving him gasping and shivering at the edge. “No no. Please, I'm so close.” He groaned, leather straining as he tried to angle toward her mouth. The glint of pearly white teeth grinned at him and she laughed.

“I know.” She sat back and bless him her hands returned. He thrust into them but she gripped his cock in a vice grip, the blood stoppered as she prevented him from spending himself. “You will come when I say so.”

“No.” He groaned.

“Oh yes.” Came her wicked reply.

“No. Please mama please let me.”

“Absolutely not.”

He whined.

“Not yet anyway.” She held him firm and waited, watching as he felt that desire and want wane but it would be back. He knew it, and Sebastian had the feeling she knew as well given how closely she monitored him. Seconds, minutes, it could have been hours but his erection was still standing proud between her hands and then she lowered her mouth and began anew.

This time she gave his length nips and nuzzles. Her face dangerously close. She swapped to his balls frequently. He understood what she meant by cock worship the moment he heard her mutterings. He swore he heard the Chant of light being uttered but he was lost to his own pleasures until she pulled back again the moment he was there again. His manhood aching and borderline painful.

Cold air and the absence of warmth had him throwing his head back, exasperated as she chuckled. “Maker save me.” Sebastian grunted.

“I don't think you want the Maker intervening in my bed chambers.” Mama Lena tutted.

He had to agree of course but if she didn't let him cum soon, he may well beg for it.

“You have to understand, my dear Sebastian, _anticipation_ is everything.” Her dark eyes pinned him as she climbed up, her mouth wide and grinning. “You can't really enjoy the orgasm without the journey to it.” Her small soft body shimmied up, his erection rubbing along her clothes as she pulled herself up to straddle him. Her hands supplanted on his chest, pressed down and her hips raised.

He rested against her thigh until he wriggled his hips to line up with her entrance. As of yet he had not been inside Lena, feeling her velvet heated folds wrapped around his prick. Her silky passage clinging to his length as he drove inside her. Oh maker, how he wanted to drive into her.

“Would you not rather have me inside you, Mama? My engorged cock thrusting inside your wet cunt?” He drawled slowly in that voice he knew she liked. He accentuated his accent as she froze, her body shivering and breath hitching. Her breasts heaved as she took a deep breath. Mama Lena angled her head down as she sunk her hips onto his length, aligning his member with her entrance.

Had it worked?

With a squirm and sharp thrust down his head penetrated into her, sinking slowly. The strangled whine turned guttural as she lifted off him just as quickly and before he could even enjoy her dripping heat.

“Just a taste, dear Sebastian.” Her voice was even and cool as she sunk down atop him again, this time further.

The bed creaked as he yearned to grab her hips and thrust upward, leather digging into his wrists. Her hips swirled as she sunk lower and lower. Her tight- _tight_ passage squeezing seem to loosened and then gripped around him in waves, becoming ever more tighter. _How?_

He could not watch him enter her, for she still was fully clothed, sans her smalls and it irked him. How could she not want to be as nude as he was? Free to touch and explore.

She rose her hips, her hands now trailing up to grasp her bosoms through her clothes. “I know you want to look, to touch, to suck… But you haven't earned it yet.” She chastised him and once again sunk down on his length, and rose up.

Whispered prayers of restraint left his lips but they did little for him when she settled down completely, his length fully inside her. His hips gave an involuntary buck and she was off him quickly. “No-no-nonono mama no maker no please I'm sorry!” His throat tightened as he begged.

“You know I can't tolerate naughty boys. You _must_ be punished.” The way her lips stretched made him stop begging. His breath hitched as his hips were turned and he squirmed. His anticipation rose as he heard the creaking of leather.

Was it the belt? The riding crop? Would she forgo both in favor of her hand?

He wanted her hand.

“Safe words.” She commanded.

“Red means stop, yellow means break…” He mumbled as he drew trembling knees underneath him and groaned as her soft hand trailed over the cleft of his buttocks.

“And?”

He squinted in concentration as she cupped his balls. “Green...green means go.”

“Good boy.”

It was the belt. Sebastian groaned as the leather stung the flesh of his arse. His back arched as his cock throbbed each time the belt struck him. Once- twice…. Three times. His breath shuddered as she paused. Her delicate hand rubbing softly and blowing air over his heated flesh.

The belt struck again leaving reddened flesh along his arse and upper thighs, that were quickly soothed by Madame Lena’s hands.

“Will you behave now?” She crooned into his ear.

Sebastian’s hips shifted as he took in rasping breaths but he could not answer her. His cock was leaking onto the bed spread and as his knees came closer, it became trapped. He grunted as his hips shifted, searching for release.

“Will you behave?” Her voice leveled as she drew his hips back roughly.

“No!” He growled turning to glare, defiance flashing as he squirmed.

“No?” Mama Lena quirked an amused brow up.

“More.” He groaned, unable to stop his request from spilling out. Lena peered at him, his hips shifting and raising his arse up. “Please…” His gaze was nothing but dark pools that gave her pause. Too long she watched him, his muscles taut as he kept himself raised. The moment stretched between them before she nodded.

“Make sure to use the safeword if you need to.” She muttered seriously as her legs shifted to brace herself on the bed. Her hand rubbed soothingly at his arse.

The leather stretched in her grip as she flexed it, lightly running it up his flexing and tense muscles of his calves and thighs.

Sebastian huffed impatiently. “Mama-” he groaned at the light swat she gave him. It wasn't anywhere near as painful. She gave him another and another. Again and again the leather belt rose and struck his arse. Each one growing in severity and strength.

“You're such a naughty boy. Wanting to be belted…” She muttered, the slap of leather on flesh loud.

“Yesss.”

_Slap_

“Do you know why you're naughty?”

Sebastian nodded his head as his wrists turned in the straps and pulled himself up.

“Oh you know? Tell me why?” Mama gave a harsher slap and he gasped, knowing it would welt.

“I visit whore houses-”

Another slap.

“I defile myself.”

Two quick swats had him shuddering, his cock quivering dangerously. _Yes yes yes!_

“I fuck- fuck women, men- ah!” Sebastian grunted as the swats came one after another. He grit his teeth, trying to be quiet. Tears pricked at his eyes. “Maaahmma” he moaned as the edges of his vision whitened. The base of his spine tingled, tightened and trembled as another swat had his hips bucking at air and he growled. Wrists strained at the straps as he exploded in relief all over the bed.

For a moment there was nothing but his haggard breaths. The Prince of Starkhaven was spent having had no contact directly to his now softening organ. _Maker forgive me_. He peered below him at the mess, tears burned at his eyes before they fell. His disgust and shame brought his cock to life again.

He could not help the sob he released but he did smother the rest by pressing his face into the pillow. His shoulders shook as he sobbed.

“Sebastian…” Lena called, body still as she touched him. He tensed, his legs shifting as he tried to pull away from her.

 _Shit. Shit shit. I over did it._ Lena blanched as she eyed the prince’s sobbing form. “This… This is why I reminded you about the safe words. To prevent this.” She snatched the small jar of poultice and eyed Sebastian’s welted arse. There were a few crisscrossing red lines of blood where she went a tad too rough but nothing terrible.

Carefully, she slathered the poultice on. He had shuddered even more. She shifted to sit against the headboard and undid his wrists. The red and bruising of his wrists made her cringe but he simply curled up.

What was she supposed to do? Console him? She supposed but he was crying. Sebastian fucking Vael was crying because she had belted him too harshly. There was a sentence she never imagined she’d say. She leaned against the headboard and eyed the prince as his sobbing subsided and muffled words made her perk up. “What?”

“I'm sorry….” He sounded devastated. His hair disheveled and his too bright cerulean eyes damn near broke what little heart she had.

“Why are you apologizing?” She reached a hand to tuck his hair back, slicking it neatly until he looked somewhat normal.

“I-I…” His cheeks burned and his head angled down at the mess of fluids.

Lena squinted at the mess and then at his expression. Finally it clicked. “Is that why you were crying? Because you orgasmed without my permission?” At his nod, she barked a laugh and then released a breath she'd been holding.

“Are you mad?”

“Fuck no. Relieved. I thought I had hurt you. You scared me Vael. Bursting into tears like that, nearly gave me a heart attack.” She rubbed her face and grinned as she had an idea. Her dress came off, leaving her in only her smalls. “Come here.” She opened her arms and Sebastian shuffled to her and she settled his head on her bosom. “Take a nap, you're going to need it.”

“No -I should go-”

“Take a fucking nap, Vael.” She ground her teeth and dug her fingers into his hair. “I'll wake you before sunrise.”

She wasn't a cuddler in bed but she needed the reassurance that she hadn't fucked up. Sure she was rusty but going too far had never been something she’d done outside of training and well this had chilled her. She'd have to be a bit more careful, for her sanity. Especially as Sebastian peered up at her.

“Mama,” he called softly in that voice that brought a flush to her cheeks.

“Yes Sebastian?” Lena gave him.

And the little cheeky fuck opened his mouth and engulfed most of her left breast in his mouth and sucked, his tongue teasing through the fabric.

“Hey! You haven't earned that yet!” She flicked at his nose, ignoring the pleasant shivers that resulted from his action. Sebastian gave her a dark chuckle but did settle down for that nap. “Cheeky sod.”

Sebastian grinned, even as the guilt and shame settled into him at what exactly he had done. What she had done to him. But he could not blame her. He had asked for this, week after week he returned to _Mama_. And just like now, he could feel the maker’s judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, for those who read all the comments, this chapter is NOT named Maker's Gloryhole. I ended up without enough smut... for two chapters. My gosh I hate myself for that. So expect smut again for next chapter. Andraste's Tits! I'm self-indulging too much for this fic but Maker damn me! Why not! 
> 
> Also sorry for the super long delay. I've been a lil pre-occupied with some IRL stuff, sickness, new steady-ish job, new friendships, lost friendships, Pokemon GO came out, basically busy busy life! And now that it's starting to calm down a bit I'm getting back into my favorite hobby-lovechild - FANFIC WRITING! And for those who read my other fic Maker, Have Mercy sorry about that delay but its gonna be much longer for that one. I've been working on something a little special for that and I want it all finished before I post an update about it.


	9. Dark in Deadtown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING!** Chapter contains potentially triggering material revolving around sexual assault and molestation. Please read with caution and not while eating.

Lusine dropped the _forty_ silvers into Lena’s hands at the end of the week. Eyes alight and body practically bouncing with excitement at what she'd be able to buy with that. It wasn't much but it was certainly way more than the coppers she had been getting. And it wasn't like she'd be able to afford her own flat or room with it outside of the Rose. She still had to budget the money like hell. Especially as she turned around and gave twenty silvers _back_ to Luisine to make a payment on the debt. She spied Viveka scowling as she wrote in that ledger, keeping track of how much she made.

Forty silvers out of every two sovereigns. That was a twenty percent cut she got out of every time she took a customer. Lena was sure her cut was way more than the others. She had spied a certain storyteller in the Rose coming down from the upper levels one morning and well he hadn't stopped to say hello but Lusine had a pinched face afterwards. That usually happened when it involved Lena nowadays so she had it on good authority it had to do with her.

She would feel angry except she had her own fairy God-dwarf making sure she didn't get cheated or bullied like when she got saddled with the debt. It left a warm fluttering feeling in her chest. And a certain gratitude toward Denier as he’s the one who alerted the Storyteller of her particular predicament. _Dwarf power?_

Not that the fellow dwarf prostitute would let her pay him back. Everytime she tried, he’d brush her off and say, jokingly, only a night is all he asks before they both ended up snorting with laughter. They did that for a living, him more than her and they definitely didn’t want to do it with each other despite all his flirting, innuendos, and arse pinching. It was friendly, meant to ease the tension and completely platonic, thankfully. Lena wouldn’t be able to take it if Denier saw her as more than a friend, a fellow dwarf in the same industry. Cosmos help her if he tried to proposition her for a night because then she’d charge him and _she_ cost more than him a night. He only raked in a sovereign but he had more customers and she cost two sovereigns but she only had one customer which she will endeavor to keep it that way as long as possible.

It’s not like she didn't enjoy her one solitary customer, it’s just the things she did were familiar to her but were so wildly different to her preconceived notions of him. Every time she thought of the future Royal Archer Chantry Boy as tall commanding and wanting justice for his future murdered family, it made such a stark contrast to the simpering submissive under her hands. Then again Lena knew he spent a lot of time before joining the Chantry with his cock buried in a lot of women, if she's to take his short story into consideration.

It was an interesting development, one if she ever found a way back home she would be sure to share with her fellow fans. Not that any would believe her but she had to look on the bright side.

Speaking of the bright side, she had a few things to purchase with her money. An investment to her soap making operation that unbeknownst to the patrons and residents of the Rose, was happening right above their heads. An operation that was ridiculously slow going because despite her increase in income and thus increase in meat consumption, and slowly returning health as she got the necessary proteins and irons in her, there still wasn’t anywhere near as much fat. _How did the people in the middle ages make soap?!_

Lena was getting inordinately frustrated because she _had_ wanted to sell this soap for Satinalia but it came and went with no improvement and First Day was just last week. It was the new year now. Every time she thought about it, she felt her heart sink just a little because she’d been here a whole _half a year_ and she wasn’t any closer to getting back home.

Three holidays came and went and not one of them did she really celebrate with those around her. She’d been invited to the Merchant’s Guild Hall every time, and while she did show up - who was going to turn down proper food freely given like that? Not her that's for sure - she always left early when seeing friends and family joking together. She could joke with Denier and occasionally Varric when he popped in but it _wasn’t_ the same. It was hollow to her. They were celebrating their own holidays and well it wasn’t the same for her. All Souls’ Day might have been like Halloween, Satinalia was similar to Christmas, and First Day was basically New Years but the customs are different, the songs are different, the location is different and it feels _too_ different.

So Lena left with the barely believable excuse to Denier that she had to check on things with the lye. He was the only one who knew; mostly because he helped her negotiate receiving the wood ashes from some of the other businesses in the Red Lantern district. She didn’t need to check on the lye because she had a lot of lye, not enough or in such concentrations to make her worried but enough to know it was a lot. Especially as it meant the people burned wood here so fast and in such high quantities, she was surprised there was still a forest just past Hightown.

Checking the glass and ceramic containers of lye, she eyed them. What other uses for Lye was there? Sure she used it in small quantities now to help dissolve some of the grease and gunk when working, it was really powerful and she usually poured it into the bucket of water ( _never pour water into lye, the reaction is caustic and things will break_ _and heat_ ). The floor and tables had never been so clean before except maybe when they were first built.

Shaking her head, she left the Rose with her coin purse firmly in her breast band and perused the markets for the bits and bobs. She needed fat. If only Thedas had the equivalent of a liposuction clinic. She snorted. _Oh yes, let's go all Tyler Durden._

Bundles of peppermint purchased, she was going to be using them to create oils for the soap so they would be higher quality, she meandered through the Lowtown markets. She could take _another_ trip down to Darktown, find the obstacle home and try to find the entrance again but she knew where that was going to go. She’d go back when she had a little bit more of a stable position, of which she was not in. She was still eight sovereigns in debt. Though a few more visits from Sebastian and she’d be set in that regard. It was still taking too long. This was why she had wanted the soap.

“Well, it certainly is an interesting design choice.”

Maybe because she’d gotten used to searching out that voice, or she’s just particularly in tune to know when he’s around. But she heard him, even over the sounds of the other Lowtowners and Guards.

Lena wasn’t so scared of the guards anymore. _When had that become normal?_ She wouldn’t be able to tell you because she didn’t flinch. She did still shrink away when she saw Templars though. Almost like she could feel their gaze burning into her back, screaming _You’re different! Blood magic! Too Different!_

“It’s not too flashy for your purposes?” Came another voice, this one she didn’t recognize.

Lena looked around her trying to determine where she was picking this up from, until she walked around the building and recognized the Hanged Man’s back alley. Unlike the game, the Hanged Man was not the only building in the center of that square. Although the other establishments near it were just as decrepit. One such building was an Orphanage and she spied the urchins running amok and the Den Mother screeching but she paid them no mind as she slipped into the alley between the buildings, stopping briefly to consider the smell before more voices filtered down.

“I’m sure the gold will go along nicely, Davri.”

 _That was Bianca he was talking to?_ She had to snap her mouth shut and grind her teeth when she began growling and wanting to find them and pull Varric protectively against her.

“It’s spring loaded now. The old design was all manual.”

“So all I have to do now is-”

“Pull that, yeah _just like_ that.”

There was the faint sound of gears and metal on metal clicking and then a _thwump_ as something snapped. Lena followed at the sounds but it was filtering down from a window that was too high for her to see through.

“Hmm, the bowstrings are taut. What material is that?”

“It’s a blend of fibers and gold twined to increase the resistance to water. You can’t have your string go soft on ya in the rain, now can you?”

There was a spring sound, and metal rang out as something sung in the air with a whistle in a quick burst before it punctured something. “And the bolts?”

“I’ve made you a few hundred of them, to start. I can show you how to _sharpen_ your bolts, Tethras.”

Bianca’s emphasis on sharpen had Lena’s brows raising and she felt that protective streak rise up. What the woman will do to Varric in the coming years made her skin crawl and teeth hurt as she ground the remains of her molars. _God fucking damnit I wish I could stop it from happening._

Lena froze, her foot faltering and she tripped. Her hands braced against the side of the building and she huffed as the foot plunged into the deep gutter running along the alley. She eyed the dark muddy looking water stream as realization dawned on her. She _could_ stop it from happening. She could save Varric all those years of heartache and pining and maybe even stop Bianca from getting involved with the Red Lyrium all the way down the line.  But what would it _cost_? How would it change anything? Plus if she found a way home she’d ruin everything and then leave and disappear. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t be able to sleep at night now knowing this was all a real place. At least letting things run their course she’d be able to sleep at night knowing everything was going to plan and that everything would eventually be okay. Well… at least for the next decade and a half until a certain elven apostate wrecks havoc on the veil. If he does anyway.

So she had to let Bianca into Varric’s life like that. Had to watch as he fell for Bianca Davri when Lena knew the smith was so very wrong for him on so many levels. She pressed her face to the side of the building as tears threatened to fall. She _couldn’t_ interfere. She just _couldn’t_ and it _hurt_ to know she could save him- save so many people but it would upset the balance. And who knew if her presence hadn’t already messed things up as it is.

“God fucking damnit.” She swore softly and made to turn, tuning out the continuing conversation knowing it would upset her more. But her foot was still in the gutter and she tripped and went crashing down toward the rubbish and foul brown water. Hands flailing to catch the wall, a box, _something_ to break her fall but she went down down and-

Her hands braced against the stone floor as she held herself aloft hovering over the gutter before she could splash face down. Her upper arms strained under her weight.

“That...would have been terrible.” She seethed as she climbed up, turning to walk out when a whole lot of something splashed down and making her shriek while frozen in place as the malodorous water came from _above._

She pitched her head up to see Norah emptying one of the chamber pots from the upper levels and all but glared at her. The barmaid didn't even notice her as she pulled the chamber pot back in.

The quite literal piss water had soaked her dress, clinging to her hair. Her mouth pressed into a thin line once she stopped screaming. Squinting to keep the unsanitary excretions out of her eyes and angling her head forward, she moved out of the gutter when something rolled down her hair and plopped down on the ground behind her.

She didn't look because she could already tell by the smell what it was and she could not handle it.

“Fuck this shit. Fuck this place. _Fuck Kirkwall_.” She grit between her teeth and wrung out what she could of her clothes and then stepped out to try and dash to the staircase down to Darktown.

Why Darktown? Because in Darktown no one would care what she smells like. But here in Lowtown where it was crawling with guards, they'd take her to the little single cell jail in the Keep or give her a hefty fine for smelling this bad. She wouldn't even try for Hightown, they wouldn't let her anywhere near there in the state she was in.

 _Public disturbance._ She could already hear the sneer from the guards should they find her. She'd seen them do it before when drunks got too rowdy and they'd be carted off to the Keep to sleep it off and leave in the morning with a fine that was both ludicrous and unfair.

Checking to make sure the way to the staircase was clear, she pressed to the side of the Hanged Man when she got an eyeful of a certain storyteller with his arms full of a very pretty brunette female dwarf dressed in fancy leathers, her belt full with an odd assortment of hammers, prongs, pouches and other tools. It looked like a farewell embrace.

 _This is what you get for eavesdropping. Covered in piss, shit, and this…_ She groaned and retreated back into the alley to compose herself and to wait out the embrace. Her stomach and chest tight. _He was never yours anyway._

Seconds maybe minutes passed, she wasn't entirely sure but it felt like a lifetime. Taking a breath she ventured out.

“Lena?”

_Fuck shit fuck. Abort abort._

She tried to back up into the alley again but she'd been spotted not just by Varric but also Bianca. Bianca _fucking_ Davri who was looking at her with curiosity and then her gaze turned critical. She took stock of Lena’s soaked dress, nose crinkling at what was the pungent smell of piss and shit reeking off her. Bianca faced Lena eye to eye, their equally brown eyes gazing right into each other, Bianca’s flinching once to take in her hanging greasy wet clumped hair and streaking makeup.

Lena was not going to turn her backside to her where she knew there was likely a suspicious brown streak. Cheeks heated as she grimaced at this first meeting. _Oh yeah, this is just wonderful._

Even Varric took a step back when he got over his shock and then he was snorting as the direction his gaze went had him putting together the story behind her appearance. “You'd think you'd learn to not eavesdrop given your current record with it.” Varric smirked.

“Oh you know. Just trying my hand at spying and subterfuge. It's ah…” She lifted her arms and gestured to herself. “Not turning out so well.” Lena shrugged flippantly and pushed slimy chunks of her hair back and tried not to think _why_ it was slimy.

Varric was laughing at her. There was a barely contained shake to his shoulders and his eyes were bright and lips twitching as he suppressed a grin. He coughed into his hand and then turned to his companion. “Messere Davri this is Madame River.”

“ _You're_ Madame River?” Bianca questioned, and once again her gaze turned critical only instead of checking her appearance in a general sweep it was more confused and judging. _Really not helping my opinion of you, Bianca._

“I'd shake your hand but uh. Probably not a good idea right now.” Lena forced a chuckle that totally did _not_ sound nervous. No she was completely composed and confident even while covered in excrement because if she wasn't then she might have snorted from her nervous chuckling and nearly sprayed Bianca with the _not water_ dripping from her hair.

Horrifying to even think about.

Except that's exactly what she did and she promptly _fled_ with a mumbled “Sorry.” Varric's laughter trailing after her. She ran right down the stairs to Darktown and did not stop running until she found a small nook and hid away in it despite her stench that made even her gag. She breathed through her mouth and sat there in that filth, waiting for it to dry off.

With no sun and in the dark, dank, underbelly of Kirkwall, it took quite awhile for it to dry and by then she was hungry, cold, and hating herself. The sun had been high when she fled and now it was low in the sky and while she was used to staying up for two days at most, it was still getting to her.

“Stupid fucking gutters. Why don’t they have freaking toilets?!” She swore and kicked at the wall. Her fingers raked through her hair and yanked at the clumps and slimy chunks until it was relatively clean - well it will never truly feel clean to her. She pulled the bundle of peppermint leaves out and rubbed the leaves on her face, particularly under her nose and then climbed out of her nook.

She wasn’t lost but she knew it would take a long time to find her way back to Hightown, at least the staircase that would lead to that particular alley where she could sneak into the bathhouse and douse herself in the hottest water and scrub her body until she was raw and burn the clothes she wore. Unfortunately she couldn’t burn her leather boots because they were the only ones she had.

Lena made her way through Darktown, sliding and dodging around corners and trying to avoid people in general. And when she couldn’t, well most gave her a wide berth due to the smell and others, she flashed the little dagger she kept on her belt. While it was blunt, it did the job and showing she was at least prepared and most of these rogues didn’t want to get near her to steal from her, too much trouble.

She counted herself lucky because any other day while dusk was approaching, Darktown would be a veritable nesting place for the shadier and more dangerous sides of Kirkwall, ones she wanted no part of. She kept her head down and looked away from every pulled cloak and suspicious look and kept moving.

Or… she _tried_ to.

Her back slammed against a wall as the fellow _dwarf_ sneered at her from below his hood, crooked yellowed teeth flashing from a dark brown beard. Lena’s gaze drew downward toward the armor he wore, rugged hardened leathers over thick cottons. Something flashed on his inner lapel and she trembled at the insignia of two axes behind a helmed skull in white and gold. _Carta._

“Keep moving.” He seethed as the quieter dwarf beside him regarded her briefly eyeing her curves before they both sniffed and their expressions turned to disgust.

“Trying to.” She slid along the wall and out of their turf, all but running down the corridor far from them. She was already in debt to the Coterie so the last thing she needed was to anger any member of the Carta. They didn't have much of a presence on the surface but what little power they did have up here was more power than Lena had.

She passed by the one corridor in Darktown with the red x on the wall, glaring at the still wall and the layer of dust and dirt that was beginning to cover it. She'd have to refresh the mark though she knew her way to this stretch of wall given how many times she'd made the trip.

It was just as she rounded the corner that she heard it. A door swinging open, scraping against the stone and small short steps hurrying out.

_Was that?_

There weren't any Darktown shacks or shanties here. No buildings built into these walls like in the larger areas. But you'd never know unless you really looked.

She rounded back and saw a small little urchin kid walking out with a bag slung over his shoulder and a piece of parchment in his hands. He didn't see her but she crept closer. It was the urchin kid, the one that was there when she first arrived in the Black Emporium. Eyeing the closing door it took her a moment to notice the red mark on the door that was swinging shut. By then it was too late.

“HEY! HOLD THAT DOOR!” She screeched as she picked up the pace. The kid looked up, shocked and pale and the door all but slammed shut the last few inches. That same shimmering blue as the edges sealed and it was like they never existed. The kid darted down the corridor and Lena swore, eyeing the door with condemnation before she hiked her skirts and ran after him.

“KID! COME ON GET BACK HERE! I JUST WANT TO TALK!” Lena screamed after him. _I sound like such a pedo._ She huffed and skidded around a corner where the urchin had ran to, dodging the wayward debris and then he squeezed into an impossibly tight alley that Lena had to wiggle her way through and burst out of, barely catching sight of him as he rounded another corner.

“Fucking little shit.” She growled. Now she was angry and most people did not like it when she got a hold of them and was actually angry. This kid was going to get the shit kicked out of him if she got her mitts on him. _Well maybe not physically._

Lena could hear his hurried steps but she couldn't actually see him and it became harder to track him when he dodged into a more populated part of Darktown. _Damnit!_ She weaved around the lingering cloaked figures and the underground merchants who glowered at her from their stalls selling an assortment of poisons and hard to acquire alchemical ingredients and goods. No one paid her much attention aside from a quick look.

The further she followed the kid the seedier the area got and the more her stomach sank as she became well aware of where she was. Denier had warned her to stay away from this part of Darktown. If not just because it was very far away from Hightown but because it was off the the usual routes of Guards because of the kinds of folk who frequented these parts. Mercenaries, apostates, ruffians, thugs, murderers, and all sorts did their business here. When a Guard did come this way, it was mostly to accompany the Undertaker to collect the corpses of victims to be set to the pyre as they had been taken advantage of overnight. Which from the dwindling light source and the elongated shadows produced from the few pockets of light, was quickly approaching.

 _Shit._ Searching for a staircase up, she walked past alley after alley, pulling away from each every time she noticed glittering eyes from within. Eyes she knew to either be elven or dwarva because those were the only eyes to glow in the dark like that. When she didn’t see eyes glittering back, she only grew tenser and more wary. A concern that was well placed because she had to dodge a bustling figure which put her too close to another alley.  A hand shot out and gripped her upper arm, dragging her into the dark recesses.

She yelped but another hand covered her mouth. Lena barely remembered to bite down but that did nothing because the grip on her arm grew harsher.

“Ya ‘retty.” A gurgling voice sounded and the large forceful hand yanked her closer until she stumbled, trying to fight back as he dragged her deeper into the alley. The reek coming off the man was worse than the one coming off her, causing her to gag as she took breaths through her nose.

Her assailant spun them until he was blocking the way out with his towering bulky frame. He let her go only long enough to get a good look at her again and in turn letting her get a look at him. His face was heavily marred and littered by pockmarks and slashes to the point one eye was whited out. He gave a wheezing laugh that turned into a spit spraying cough as he chugged a bottle of what she could only assume was alcohol as he reeked of it. The harsh smell clung to his pores and skin.

“Get out of my way.” She growled trying to escape him.

That amused him.  He stepped toward her, crowding her toward a pile of boxes, containers, and a bundle of blankets with what appeared to be a pillow.

This was where he slept. _Fuck_.

She slipped the dagger from her belt into her hand and held it out, threatening. “Let me pass.” She seethed again, eyes hardening as she straightened her back and squared her shoulders.

“No.” He croaked and then lunged for the wrist that held her knife. Panic laced up and she squawked as she stepped back only to bump into the boxes. She tried to dodge away from him but he simply grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, her legs kicking at him did nothing.  He lay her flat on the rickety box that acted as a table, the wine bottle and mugs and glass container that had laid there falling, cracking and shattering on the floor. Her short legs kicked furiously at him.  He rumbled with laughter as he pinned them against the box.  Her body pressed into an odd backwards angle strained and made her abdomen taut and tight with pain. His hips keeping her bent this way.

“Ave ‘een ya at da Rose. ‘pretty lil thing like ya…” He pressed his face into her neck and inhaled, deeply. Whatever he smelled, she knew wasn’t nice because he gagged.

“Yeah, like the smell of that?” She spat and cackled. “It’s piss and shit.” With a harsh twist of her wrist, the clutched dagger she clung to slashed his exposed inner forearm toward his wrist. The angle she worked at rubbed the wrist bones tightly, crushing and spraining. _Not going to be writing anytime soon._

His grip briefly tighten, intending on forcing her to let go of the dagger but she did her damndest to cause as much harm as she could do before it clattered to the box, leaving her with what was at best a sprained wrist. Still she rejoiced as the harsh jagged slash dribbled blood down and wet her sleeve. The slash was deep and long, and it had dragged across a large vein toward his wrist. Once the dagger was gone, he growled and let her hand go. _Stupid move._ She tried to use her other hand to grab the dagger but his right hand came down on her.

Lena had only a moment to see the movement for what it was and she screamed. It did no good because his fist caved into her face, shutting her up as her neck snapped to the side from the force. Her jaw snapped under the blow and she bit her tongue hard enough to taste pennies and smell copper in her nose. Her eye in pain indicated her face would swell as a large black and blue bruise would later form on that side.

While she groaned in pain, the bastard that was her attacker pawed at her curves, fabric ripping as he tore through her clothes. His breath haggard and his nostrils flared in anger as he couldn’t rip through her breast band and instead began lifting her skirts, but to do that he had to unpin her.

She felt sick, already violated and she growled, livid at him. _How dare he._ She head butted her assailant while he looked down and that just made him angrier but it distracted him from her lower half.

“Fookin bitch.” He growled and another punch to her face had her grunting but he had let go of her hand to do so and she scrabbled for the dagger.

Gritting her teeth she lunged at him, dagger flashing at the only place she knew that would do optimal damage quickly, his only good eye. He roared and screeched, flailing backward from her, trying to grip the dagger protruding out of his eye. His left arm was weak from where she had cut and slippery. In the end he couldn’t pull it out.

Lena slid off the box as he tried desperately to stop the pain. _Weapon._ Her breath hard as she looked around for another weapon. The dagger would only keep him busy for so long.

Something glinted further into the alley and she lunged for it.  Metal scraped against the floor. Fumbling for a moment she hefted up the large sword, barely able to keep it up right with both hands and she ran at him. He was stilling trying to listen but it was too late. The sword, sharp and deadly punctured through him but not where Lena had hoped and it put her too close to his range. So close in fact his right hand came around her neck and he began choking her, gripping harder.

“Ya fookin slut, bitch!” He growled and slammed her against the wall of the dingy alley.

She gasped, her eyes on his left hand where blood dribbled faster the more his muscles worked.  Then he placed both hands at her neck. It became wet with blood but he squeezed. Her hands went to his wrists, trying to pull him off her. Some part of her brain was yelling at her that it would never work so she went to her neck, her entire hand grabbing at one finger and pulling it back until it broke, and then a second, and a third. Each one loosening his hold with a grunt of pain and the flood of breath in her throat had her celebrating prematurely because his leg slammed into her abdomen and she went down, back sliding until she was coughing and wheezing.  Yet, he was woozy above her.

He couldn’t see but his hearing was more than enough. If he could just stay on two legs he might have got her.

She eyed the blood stains on the floor. _Six liters of blood in the human body, how long would this take? Fuck, wish I paid more attention in Anatomy._ The breathy wheeze was a laugh even if it didn’t sound like it. It turned into a moan of sadness as she watched her would be rapist and possible murderer remembered the sword in his abdomen and pulled it out. _Bad move_. Now there was nothing stoppering the blood and she watched as he stumbled back and fell, the sword dropped with a clatter. Her eyes closed as she did not want to see the life pass on from him but she felt it as sure as she heard that death rattle escape him in a way she wished to escape Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maker's Gloryhole is coming, don't worry. I just moved some things around in the outline to appease my need to have more plot related events happen before I use that chapter. 
> 
> Things turned a little dark this chapter and they will be a bit dark next chapter too. I apologize if the action sequence was a little awkward, I had to practice that bit a little with a friend and it was awkward mostly because doing all those defensive moves that Lena did would cause pain due to the unusual angles. But hey you won't notice that when you're fighting for your life and defending yourself as best you can, so *shrugs* it happens.


	10. Resolving Cleanse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING!** Chapter contains potentially triggering material revolving around sexual assault and molestation. Please read with caution and not while eating.

Never let it be said, Selena River wasn’t an opportunist. 

Gold speckled umber gaze flew over the flesh, tracking where the dulled blade would go. Had there been a sharper tool, the amount of force needed to puncture wouldn’t be so great but as it was, this was all that was at hand.

There were several steps in the putrefaction process so there was plenty of time before the body would bloat and stench the alley, not that it didn’t already harbor a malodorous spice that tickled her nose and left her wanting the faint familiar trace of formaldehyde. Death was never pretty. Human death even less so.

The thought had her pause, eyes wide, hands shaking as the reality of it stroked and plunged icy tainted tendrils into what remained of her morality. Lids closed, body a quiver, but the bile came up and her body turned. Heaving stomach acids onto the floor, she coughed and sputtered, burning her esophagus before resetting her resolve.

There was nothing different about the mammal in front of her. Nothing different from it and a pig. Skin, flesh, hair, blood, bones, organs, liquids… it was all the same. So similar that pigs were used for testing medicines before human testing began because the hearts were similar, or so she heard.

_ It was just a smaller pig.  _ Pink flesh giving way to organs, meat, blood, and the various items of viscera as she cut into it. It was just like Biology class and later Anatomy in college. She remembered roughly where the deposits would be, where they had settled but her fingers became faster as she cut - bludgeoned - and peeled away and there the putrid yellow chunks were her friend. That was what she needed.

She remembered being the only one in her class to enjoy the process of dissection. The only one absolutely excited even when the professor told them they had the option of piglets or frogs. When asked why they had piglets, the professor revealed a butcher had found them in the swine they had just slaughtered. A cacophony of of anguished cries from the other girls in class, and snorts from the boys but Lena...Lena just smiled and shrugged. It was life.

Her mother had taken her to the Island she grew up on when she’d been younger, to the farm and poverty she had lived in - escaped from. There had been a pig, she raised it, bonded with it all summer until.

_ Tio Marcel hefted the barely knocked out pig up by the rope until it hung over the broken bathtub outside, the machete slashing at the neck. Her ten year old gaze watching as the pig she had grown fond of drained of blood and then was cut open. Bodily fluids, organs and intestines spilling out. The intestines were cleaned. She learned they would be used for sausages. _

Lena still didn’t like sausages.

Her teeth flashed in a bitter smile. This was no different the chickens she ordered from the place down the street, cutting their heads off and emptying them to cook, cutting off the chunks and slivers of fat to have a lean meat. It wasn’t any different.

Well, except she wasn’t eating it.

There was nothing to throw up, not anymore, so her body heaved, spitting out hot air as she purged her mind of her thoughts to reset her mentality.

_ Disassociate  _ .

No one had come into the alley when she’d been screaming, or when the fight happened. This was Darktown. Yet every sound had her jumping, every shift of light or cloaked figure that darted past the alley had her pause, and peek over the boxes she had moved to hide what she was doing. She wasn’t afraid of being caught or accused of blood magic, because while the Chantry may have an iron grip on the study of cadavers, they would be hard pressed in accusing a dwarva of blood magic when they have no access to magic - as far as they know.

She was banking on every dwarf guild, including the Merchants Guild, in revolting if they tried to make her Tranquil.

But what she was afraid of, was what might come over to inhabit the body. A demon? Spirit? Something else? Knowing her profound luck there would be a necromancer nearby and the body would raise as the undead. She had to render it incapable of proper movement to settle some of her nerves but even that took too much time. Yet the decaying corpse-  _ mammal  _ remained still.

As she found her fleshy treasure she pulled the emptied glass container near and with a schlop, dropped her bounty. Jagged, uneven cuts made each chunk easier to grip and pull despite her uneasy hand. Stomach, thighs, arms, chin, back. There wasn’t much but far more than what she had ever found on any animal and that did not make it worth it but it was something.

The door closed shut behind her as she shuffled her way through the alley entrance of the brothel. Form outfitted in a dead man’s tunic and the remains of her skirt with belt heavy with daggers, a sword and a makeshift bag from a blanket slung over her shoulder; the combined weight slowed and weighed her down but she shouldered on. Her left foot slid across the wood with unfaltering steps. The cloak she wore barely covered her body but was more drawn to keep her face shrouded and hidden as she climbed the stairs far from the main floor.

She alerted no one as she finally returned after almost two days away. It was early morning so the business was dwindling down. Her ascension up the stairs was slow going and she only had to pause once at the top as she heard voices before they faded away to behind a closed door.

Avoiding all onlookers she climbed up into the crawl space of the attic and dropped her bundles to the floor carefully. There was a hard clang as an iron pot fell, a slosh and plop and a wood box clattered open. Her belt came off and clattered down and she stripped off her hood.

The next moment she was picking up the stained glass container that had contained alcohol when she found it in the alley but was now filled with a yellowed chunky substance with browning liquid of viscera. Her hand grasped the iron pot and she shuffled toward the opening to the roof. The burst of cold winter air sent her teeth chattering but she soldiered on, even as the sun’s bright light revealed the damage to her hands and arms to her gaze. She only gave them a cursory look to see if they were bleeding before continuing her stilted and slowed motions.

There was no mirror present but she didn't need one to know the extent of the damage to places she could not see. The smattering of blues and blacks would still be light and it would be red with burst capillaries but they would threaten to darken with time showing the damage and bruising beneath her skin, especially as the flesh around her eye swelled, tears leaking involuntarily.

Her fully working eye cast around the roof to the raised half broken barrels that had filled with rain water over the last few months. Spigots had them dripping into more barrels keep the water running and moving. There was nothing worse than stagnant water, it just invited disease. But she knew most of the barrels were recently filled, if the puddles along the edges of the roof was any indication.

It wasn't what she was looking for. No she walked toward where the protruding chimneys were. She had built a makeshift stove with wood and abandoned bits of metal. She plopped the iron pot on top and emptied the glass contained into it and shoved pieces of logs underneath. She took a handful of kindling and the sticks she had collected, quickly and lightly rubbing the stick against wood. She could have gotten flint but flint was expensive and she knew how to start a campfire the old fashioned way. The first time she’d done it, it took an hour of frustration and then she calmed down. Now she could light a fire after only a few minutes.

Lifting the lit branches and kindling, she placed them in her stove and blew on it, building the fire until it spread to the logs and watched, feeling the warmth as it spread. The area here was already warm as it is thanks to the chimneys so while the chill of the winter air made her shiver, all she’d have to do was put her back to the exposed bricks and she could feel the heat.

It didn’t take long for the horrifying stench of cooking human meat to come wafting up. She retrieved a dagger and spun the contents of the bowl. She’d been sure to make sure as little of the blood had been poured out. What can you do without a proper strainer?

She let it continue to cook, eyes drawn to the brown flakes on her hand, the dirt and blood under her fingernails. She stared hard at them, and then drifted down to the way her wrists were already black and blue. The pinching pain that laced up her arm from the way the crushed bone rubbed against each other.

The pain helped distract her. The agony of it drew her mind away from faint memories of home. Memories she never wanted to revisit no matter how much she missed home.

_ Sneakers squeaked as her chest heaved. The thwump of her heavily laden bag hit her thigh as she ran, the weight of her overpriced college textbooks and three year old laptop was cumbersome. It slowed her down. She should have ditched it, should have chucked the bag and her wallet at her attacker who now pursued her. _

_ “Get back here!” He growled. _

_ Why’d she keep it? Why’d she anger him?! Why’d she come this way?! _

_ This part of campus was notorious for being empty. It was why she’d went this way, to avoid the looks while on her walk of shame. Eyes red rimmed and hands shaking, the weight of failure on her shoulders. She would have been anxious as she eyed her fellow students, so many with their heads held proud and light as they were confident they had passed. She knew she wasn’t like them, knew she was nowhere near that confident she had passed. It was worse when she heard them comparing answers and she rubbed at her burning eyes, swallowing and forcing a smile while hating herself knowing she’d fucked up again. _

_ Too much. Too much! _

_ But she couldn’t wallow. There was no time. She had to study for her next exam, had to travel an hour home in rush hour and then head to work to do back to back twelve hour shifts over the weekend, write three papers. Only when she would arrive home, she’d wake at 3 am because she finished early, head buried in a book. The thumping on the door and the sly threats and demands of her father asking to see her mother’s naked skin threatening to come in. It leaked through the too thin sheetrock walls. Teeth grit she ran out - shouting - berating her father despite her exhaustion. _

_ How dare he. How dare he! _

_ She hadn’t slowed fast enough and bounced off the brick wall, catching her head before she caused more harm to her. Her hand twisted, wrist ached but she ignored it. Run faster. Her lungs burned, her legs burned. Where was campus security?! _

_ Nowhere, like always. _

_ Should have taken the bus! Should have left on time! Shouldn’t have stayed to study here! _

_ Exams over, winter break imminent she could breathe, she could think, she could relax. She hoped to sleep, to catch up, to socialize without the unbearable crippling fear of failure. Hands trembling, she thought it excitement. Thought her pounding heart was normal as always, the greyed and silver hairs creeping in ignored. The New Year bright, only mildly soured by impending work. _

_ It’d be okay. Okay? _

_ She fell over, tripped over her laces. Stupid, stupid! She never fully tied her shoes, wanting an easy way to kick them off. Comfort, convenience, function. Booted footsteps upon her, a flick of a wrist and there was a knife. “I’m broke! I’m in debt, I’m a college student!” A joke she’d read online, maybe it’d help her, have him empathize. Nothing worked. _

_ “Get on your knees. Turn around.” _

_ Carefully she turned, breath heavy and she swallowed her screams. _

_ Stupid, stupid! _

_ She called her father, said she forgave him. She shouldn’t have. She’d been scared, terrified. He was so much bigger, stronger but he’d never lay a hand on her or her mother. But his anger, the threats. She remembered and memories of him soured, festering inside her. The divorce was on its way anyway. She knew it with the way she heard the sobs through too thin walls. Her brother slept downstairs, her sister lived in another town. But she heard, she saw, and she grit her teeth. _

_ Not my place. Not my place! _

_ “Please… no.” She whimpered. Knife pressed to her throat. She could hear his grin, the cold air on bare skin. Face pressed into the grass, he hovered. She peeked back at familiar blue eyes, familiar jaw, and the familiar dark leer. He hadn’t heard her. Her mouth shut, body frozen. How? _

_ Shut down. Shut. Down. _

_ “Mine…” _

_ She couldn’t sit for a week. She made excuses, said she felt like standing, slept on her stomach, walked everywhere. “It’s so nice and sunny out!” or “The rain is calming!” She was always weird. She wore makeup on her neck where the knife pressed too harshly, she went to the doctor for an updated tetanus shot. “Haha I stabbed myself in the foot…” _

_ Joking is normal. Do not wallow. _

_ Her mother found her passed out on the floor, breath heavy and with fever. “You have the flu.” Incredulous she was hefted onto her bed. “I don’t get sick!” A doctor visit later. Twenty-one years she’d never had the flu. Odd, weird, wrong. _

_ You’ve lost a lot of weight! What weightloss program are you on? Are you bulimic? _

_ She wasn’t trying to lose weight. The grey hairs were more pronounced, the sags under her eyes, the trembling couldn’t be ignored. She’d had the flu. She never gets the flu. One hundred pounds lost, fear, crippling. _

_ She was dying? Everyone was dying. _

_ Lupus. Second-Third-Fourth Opinion! It’s never Lupus! It wasn’t. Jokes, laugh, everything is okay. Two years, too many doctors. No insurance, No treatment. None. Manage. One hundred pounds weight gain. Fluctuates, swings. Manage, food, health, vitamins. Stay on top of it. Grades shot. Divorce final. Mounting debt, can’t work-Can’t work?! Too much, too tired, too sleepy, too winded. People look, people judge. Who the fuck cares what they think?! _

_ Therapy, group. Saps. Doesn’t work. _

_ The alcohol stings on its way down but there is no reprieve. Not normal, too many questions. Act it. Lips, hot sloppy, she can’t-she can’t. Amber gold, says he knows what she needs. Need. _

_ Restricted. Constricted. Afflicted. NO! _

_ Care. They were hers. She gave them control where she had none. Relief, she could breathe again. _

_ The leather was tight, the latex squeaked, their breaths heavy with excitement. She made her feet thud, circling around them. _

_ Comfort. _

_ Contract memorized, eyes sharp and watching. Notes so many notes. They enjoy this: admit their weakness, admit their fears, admit their wants, beg for their needs. _

_ Consent. She helps them break the barriers. But if they hurt her or them, her sharpened tongue twists a knife in too small cracks until it gushes with a trembling voice and almost tears. _

_ Words have power to control where she had none. Five years she does it. _

_ Five years of experience. Five years to harden. Five years of breathing. Five years… Five years…Five years of control. _

She mixed just a tiny bit of lye and liquid tallow and then set it aside to cool. The exhaustion deep in her bones slowed her to a crawl as she tugged at the stolen tunic and yanked off the skirts, shucked her smalls, uncaring if anyone saw. She wanted to feel clean again. She took the pot to the barrels and let the spigot go as the rain water poured through.

She had to kneel but the water ran over her naked body, cold and shocking. It felt like bliss against the bruised swollen flesh. She mixed water into the pot and began rubbing it through her hands, scrubbing her hands clean. Her fingers raked through her hair working the soap between her tresses, pads of her fingers massaging her head and feeling the bump where her head had slammed against the wall.

Her breath was wheezy, her breath visible in the air but it was secondary. Flesh became blue as the she sat there, cleansed. Her soap ran out and she stared off. She washed her face again, scrubbed her hair, again. The long length of her hair wet reached to her arse, tickling her lower back.

It’s the tickling that wakes Lena. Her voice crackles with the giggle and the snort. It’s inappropriate but it's familiar, it's safe and she laughs and laughs until she coughs but it tickles and Lena growls. Hefting her shivering form up to grab a dagger she makes sporadic and uneven cuts. Her hair is shortened to her chin again and she smiles as she leaves it to dry.

She breathes, slathers on poultice where she can and dresses herself, sitting by the fire to warm. She doesn’t think, she doesn’t remember, she blocks it out and practices twirling the blood stained dagger as the rest of the fat boils and the meat cooks. Lena waits.

Denier is the one who comes looking for her. She guesses it’s because he’s the only one worried for her, at least until she sees the familiar package as he climbs onto the roof, gazing around and then starting when he catches sight of her. The package is brown with a fancy green ribbon. She’d made the mistake of letting Varric learn that green was her favorite color. Her eyes was always attracted to the strips of fabric in the market, skirts, tunics all in a deep forest green.

Normally she was happy when she saw these packages. They were little things. A wooden comb once when her plastic one had broke, leather straps for her hair, and a very fancy dagger once. She’d never used that dagger. It looked far too nice to be used. And she was glad she had never taken it with her places because it would be stained, tainted with blood like the one she had pilfered out of box in some back alley and had dropped in her failed attempts to twirl it.

“By the Maker!” Denier gasps and the package drops as he sprints the few steps to her and kneels by her, hand lifting her face as he examines the ugly bruises along her face and then pales even worse when he sees her neck. The obvious handprint was now bruising gastly and dark.

Lena grinned. “‘Lo.” Her voice croaked causing her to grimace.

“Who did this.” Denier grabs her shoulders and stares at her, more serious than she’s ever seen him.

“‘Ark’own.” She licks her lips and shrugs. That makes Denier’s expression darken.

“I need a name. Harlan and Luisine will want to know. No one- _ No one  _ touches one of their petals.” Denier held her hands out and examined her bruised wrists and slow fingers.

One brow rose and she snorted.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re one of us now.” Denier insisted and shook his head. “Name.” He  _ wasn’t  _ asking.

“Mhm ‘unno.” She shrugged again and then lifted the dagger up for him to see. “Not problem anymore.”

It was a heavy stunned moment as Denier glanced at the dagger and then gazed down at her face, and pointedly eyed her wrists and neck. His lips thinned but his shoulders drooped, satisfied and a degree of pride in his eyes. “Where else?”

She didn’t hesitate to remove her tunic, her mostly bare form on display for him to see the smattering of bruises along her abdomen. She lifted her legs to show off the swollen ankle and then pointed at her inner thighs where she knew there was more bruises.

Denier sighed and grumbled something. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

She gave him a look and then jabbed her chin toward the pile of clothes she had yet to burn. Denier took a step toward them and growled. “You’d think I would have cared what you smelled like?” He snapped to her, angry. “At least you could have gone to Tethras!”

She glared. “Reputation.” She wheezed out with annoyance and anger tearing at her voice but it didn’t come through. It’s not like she didn’t think about it but the Rose is still a business. How would it look to see a woman so brutalized as she looked? Not to mention what it would signal for the customers to think they were allowed to do to the other workers. No. She wouldn’t let that thought permeate when so some of the customers were already cruel enough as it was.

“Oh you care about that now?” Denier gave a bitter chuckle. “No one cares about another whore’s-”

“Not my reputation. Rose’s and Varric’s.” She managed out before she coughed, throat aching. Lena pulled the tunic back on, huddling closer to the fire.

“Never pegged you for the self sacrificing type.” Denier sneered. She licked her lips and shot him a cruel grin and prepared to speak. But Denier held his hand up. “Don’t. We need to see the apothecary, Idunna can only do so much. Come on.” He turned toward the attic entrance but she did not follow. “By the Stone, River, what are you doing?!”

“Finishing.” She rose to mix the tallow with the lye, wanting to get something productive done finally done.

The silence from Denier was telling. His sigh and then he was moving again. “Come find me when you’re done. We’re going to the apothecary.” The small door slapped shut but it creaked open again.

Lena snorted but went about straining and mixing, setting the mixture into the mold to cool. If she had salt she could remove the glycerin from the soap and then make lotions, among other things, but this was good for now. This was adequate and would give her a nice hefty coin purse from selling this soap to the merchant in Hightown.

She makes four trays of soap, setting them aside to cool and harden before she turns to make her way down.

The package from Varric is still there. The delicate green ribbon has lace edges. Lena stoops to pick it up, ignoring the shake in her hands she opens it, the ribbon tucked away into her pocket. It was a small wooden box and inside, cushioned amidst hay are two delicate, what looks to be small decanter bottles filled with a golden liquid each. She pops the cork on one, and the wafting scent burst of earth, spice, and something inherently  _ feminine  _ has her closing her eyes. The neck of the bottle is thin and it’s then her brows rose. 

She opened the other bottle and instead of the burst of odors and scents, she was greeted with a bubble carrying out and the faint glint of tiny runes along the rim of the bottle. It was a soap, given how the liquid bubbled when she shook it. Its scent was also earthly, like fresh morning rain on leaves but also made her nose warm like the sun had kissed the tip of it. She sneezed but topped it off.

Lena’s cheeks were warmed as she placed the bottles by the other gifts Varric had given her. She felt offended he thought she needed soap  _ and  _ perfume but she didn’t blame him as the last time he had saw her,  _ smelled  _ her was not exactly in her favor. Still… it was a nice gift.  _ Too nice.  _ “Ugh…” she shook her head and left it.

Denier was seated at his usual spot on the main floor, only he wore a heavily hooded cloak and was nursing a mug of ale. The floor was mostly empty and the few people she saw were, thankfully workers. She had her own cloak thrown over her, and a scarf across her face when she shuffled her way to Denier who gestured for her to sit and pushed a mug of ale her way.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Came Quintus as he stepped behind her. In one hand he held a plate of ham, grapes and cheese. Lena shot Denier a glare but he shrugged as Quintus plopped the plate down and sat at the table with them, grabbing her hand before she could protest.

His fingers, pressed at her wrist and she grunted and kicked at his shin under the table to get him to let go. “See my cousin, she’ll fix you up.”

“Where’d ya think I was going to take her?” Denier gruffed and cut a slice of cheese before handing it to Lena to chew on. She gratefully ate, soothing the burning and empty feeling in her stomach and the ache in her head.

“Certainly not Idunna. She wouldn’t know what to do with broken bones.” Quintus snorted. “Luisine will want to see you in her office when you’re back.” Quintus left.

Squawking, Lena swallowed.  _ What now? _  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was highly hesitant about posting this chapter. So let me know what you guys think.
> 
>  
> 
> PS: Oh hey I made one of those fancy Aesthetic things for Lena. Catch it here: [Selena Aesthetic](http://comavampure.tumblr.com/post/148278829529/madame-lena-river-modern-character-in-thedas)


	11. Lyrium and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena is a smol angry dwarf. Do not fuck with her or the people she cares about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Slight Trigger Warning** of the implied non-consent variety toward the end.

The apothecary was not located in Hightown, or Lowtown, or even in Darktown. It was located between Lowtown and Darktown through an alley way you could only access from a staircase down from Hightown. To any casual observer it was just another potentially dead end alley but once you slipped in, it opened up into a small street between the back of the staircase and the tops of the buildings of Darktown. It was an entire small line of homes built into the cliff and yet over Darktown and below Hightown. Yet technically it was not a part of Lowtown. It was hidden from view.

Lena slipped after Denier who ducked into a small shanty shack that appeared bigger than it looked on the outside. The inside was lined in shelves and racks of all manner of herbs, spices, and animals skins. There was a sparkling purple fire at a makeshift hearth with a pot held up by what looked like blackened femur bones.

There was a swirling mixture of scents making the air heady and thick with oils and moisture. It made her eyes reddened and watered and her rethinking her plan to create scented soaps, especially as she was dimly aware she’d have to hang her peppermint leaves to dry if she wanted any hope of extracting oils.

There were a few darkened stone tables covered with straw mats and yet on only one lay a seemingly normal woman with a large puff of fuzz for hair that curled and kinked in waves and coils. She sat up and turned to them, her gold and blue ringed eyes were sharp and mismatched. As she stood, the words tall, dark and handsome were the only other descriptors Lena could think. And while typically reserved for men, they fit this woman for she was was every one of those words as she stood and towered over them and peering down as she crossed her arms, assessing them.

Lena’s mouth went dry and watered at the same time.

“My my…” Her hoarse voice was tinged with age. Smooth skin crinkled and wrinkled as crow’s feet lined the corners of her eyes and lips stretched wide. When she had no emotion the woman was smooth as undisturbed water but once lively her age showed greatly. Yet rather than detract from her allure, she was ever more appealing.

“You’re… gorgeous.” Lena managed to utter.

Denier snorted but the woman tossed her mane of wily hair back and cackled in large heaving breaths and guffaws. She calmed as her hand covered her mouth, hips propped against the stone table as she slouched and pinned Lena with her undivided attention.

“Oh Tita _likes_ you.” The way she said that made Lena’s spine snap straight. The inflection, the tone, and the way she smirked screamed a resemblance to a certain Witch of the Wild but then her eyes gleamed in kindness and she glided to Lena. She knelt down to grab her hands. “Tell Tita what ails you, and let Tita help.”

“Tita?” Lena looked to Denier who shrugged and turned his back to sit on a barrel and wait.

“Who did you think Tita was?” The woman’s lips stretched wide, displaying gleaming white teeth which was unusual considering everyone else in Kirkwall had yellowed, brown or black teeth. Or even sometimes no teeth. Tita’s teeth were whiter than even Lena’s and she’d had a toothbrush and toothpaste for at least three months before the toothpaste ran out.

“Uh...I don’t really know? You’re Quintus’s cousin, right?”

Tita cackled again, only this time with a bitter sharp edge. “Is that what that boy calls Tita? Tsk tsk. Tita will have to send him a reminder.” Tita referred to herself in the third person, it was unnerving and humorous especially as the woman began humming. Her fingers pulling at Lena’s cloak until she let it slide off, muttering small compliments of the colors of the bruises on her flesh. She did not fight it as the bruised flesh became visible to Tita’s gaze who did not bat an eye.

“Tita has seen many a woman come here, but not with spark. What is you called?” Tita’s dual colored eyes stared at her, wide eyed and curious.

“Selena er… Lena.” She stammered out, unnerved by the direct look.

“Selena.” She said it with a squint and shook her head. “Tita calls you Lena. no. no not _right_. Tita does not like. You are. Sela. Yes better. Tita likes.” The willy woman continued humming and patted the mat she had been resting on. “Tita asks you lay.”

Lena laid as instructed. “Are you a mage?”

Denier snorted again but said nothing.

“Tita is _no_ mage. Magic this magic that, Chantry think they know everything. Life… life is everywhere. Life is a song, it swirls and soothes, Tita listens. Dwarva hears the song, real dwarva anyway. Tita is more dwarva than you.” Tita sang.

“What?!” Lena’s stomach dropped and she sat up to stare at the shuffling bustling woman.

“She’s half dwarf.” Denier explained from his perch. “Born in Orzammar. You can imagine how _that_ went.”

“Oh.” She eyed the woman as she set small stones on the table around her body. Upon closer inspection, each stone were etched with some kind of rune and each were differently colored. Raising a finger to touch one, it came to life sparking and jolting with lightning and it shocked her. Snatching her hand back, she swore. It was as if she had touched a live outlet back home, the powerful surge of energy rushing through her hand and making it numb and tingly from being exposed to electricity. _Electricity._ They had runes of lightning and thus runes of electricity, runes of energy. The way her fingers and arms tingled after it reminded her of being shocked with 120 volts from an exposed outlet. Not that she was drawing from prior experience because who would be stupid enough to touch an exposed live outlet? _Certainly_ not Lena.

 _I wonder…_ Her hand reached out again.

“Sela don’t touch.” Tita chastised as she pulled a large darkened glass bowl out and set it on the table by her head. It was filled with water and then a shiny glowing blue dust was sprinkled and swirled as it sparkled in the water.

“Is that lyrium?”

Tita smirked and then thrust the small pouch of lyrium dust underneath Lena’s nose. “Tita say breathe.” Blue smokey dusty plumes rose from the pouch. Yelping at lyrium’s proximity, she couldn’t help but inhale. Her vision swam as it filled her lungs, cooling her throat and blossoming warmth and a lightheaded swirl that she could only compare to inhaling too much helium.

Thwump, thwump, her heart thrummed and beat against her ribs, the sound reverberating through her bones. Though her body lay prone on the table, her soul- spirit swam and grew. She felt more and big, tall and everywhere for a moment. She was in the sky and in the dirt and then she was coughing, watching as Tita sprinkled more dust into the water and it grew thicker and brighter. Her hands dipping into the liquid, hands that were aged and old, scarred and marred by time and sickness.

“Tita sorry, Tita knows this will hurt.” Tita whispered as she dipped her hands further into the blue liquid and raised them up. The liquidized lyrium settled onto her palms, collecting in deep rivets in her flesh as though carved with a blunt knife. The shimmering blue liquid formed their own runes on her palms, crackling and glowing as the magic in the blood of the titans ignited. “But it will hurt Tita too.”

She thrust a hand hard on Lena’s bruised flesh, pinning her legs down with the other. Something electric and warm flooded her and she coughed- howled as whatever runic magic this was worked. It seemed only a second passed when the same lyrium engraved hand touched her face and too bright gold and blue eyes gazed her brown ones.

“Hmm…” Tita’s voice hummed and soothed words she didn’t understand in a language that resonated inside her but not. “Old… so old but young.” She mouthed something that made Lena shiver and beg with reddening eyes for her to be quiet. _Don’t tell._ But before she could be sure the woman understood she was snapping awake as Denier pulled her tunic over her head. On swaying feet, she saw the table had been cleared and all trace of the runes and lyrium were gone.

Exhausted, she tried to help pull her clothes back on but her arms were heavy with ants marching underneath skin and igniting her nerves. She eyed and gaped at the disappearing bruises along her wrist and no longer did her bones scrape and grate against each other as she turned her joints. “What? How?” Her tongue felt heavy, dry, and cotton mouthed.

The not mage chuckled as she prepared some herbs. Her once smooth yet lively face was now bruised, one eye swollen and puffed and her hands shook as she held a medium sized glass decanter out for her. “Tita has more for Sela.” Her voice croaked as though her throat had been crushed.

“You…” The woman hadn’t _healed_ her, she took her injuries for herself.

“Tita notices Sela’s sickness.” She continued, nonplussed by the horror on Selena’s face, shaking the bottle to get her attention. It was filled with a viscose white pulpy liquid inside.

“What is this for?” Denier asked for her, as she tried to wrap her brain around how Tita had absorbed her injuries. Tita tapped her throat.

“Tita hears Sela’s heart, too fast and too hard. It will help. Coconut oil. Sela sips once a day. Yes? Good.” The woman turned toward the racks and eyed them up and down. “Tita say you eat fish, will make Sela stronger.” The woman turned and grabbed what looked like dry seaweed from one of the racks. The scent had her reeling back and scrunching her nose.

“Ugh… kelp.”

“It will help Sela.” Tita bundled them and took payment. One whole sovereign that Lena knew she was going to pay Denier back for.

“You didn’t tell me you were sick.” Denier hissed at Selena as they made their way back to Hightown. The coconut oil and kelp neatly wrapped and tucked into her cloak.

“Did I have to? I was practically running on fumes.” Sighing, she braced against a wall. Sometimes the stairs were too much but right now it was difficult after the strange healing she had received flushed through her, tingling beneath her skin “Not like you could have done much.”

“I could have helped.”

“Like you helped with Varric?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t need your charity just because you feel sorry for me. I don’t _need_ your pity.”

“Pity’s got nothing to do with it.”

“What does it got to do with then?”

“You should know by now!” Denier hovered close and growled into her ear. It wasn’t sexual, but it certainly screamed protective and overbearing. “There’s not many other dwarves in our business.”

“With good reason. You should reach out to the Pearl in Denerim, I hear they’ve got dwarva there too for you to fret over.” Lena pushed him away with ease and continued back toward the Rose.

“Unbelievable. You’re like a sister to me, Lena. I care, alright. Happy?” Denier grumped and stormed past her. She would have felt bad for rebuffing his platonic affection, but she was feeling more like herself the further she pushed what happened away.

“Aww.” She cooed, teasingly as she pushed herself to keep up with him. “So we’re family now? Isn’t that cute. Brother and sister in the _family_ business.” She snickered as Denier shot her a disgusted glare.

“Despicable.”

“You love it.”

“Let’s get back to the Rose before I vomit from your insinuations.” Denier dragged her up another staircase as girlish giggles spilled out.

“Don’t be too disgusted. Humans do it all the time.” She gave a wolfish grin.

“Do be quiet, dear _sister._ ”

“It’s called incest… or some would even say _win_ cest.”

The alleys of Hightown echoed with a long suffering groan and a high pitched cackle. Several guards a few streets away looked up as it flowed but none approached the two dwarva as they darted into an alley and slipped into the Blooming Rose.

Lena groaned as they pushed into the main floor, where Quintus was already serving the early birds.

“I’m surprised you can keep yourself standing, I imagine you haven’t slept?” Denier took ups his usual spot, fixing his shirt to display his chest. Lena noted there was _no_ chest hair and she frowned disappointed.

“Please… a couple days staying awake, this isn’t even the longest I’ve stayed awake.” She yawned and set her head down just as the other ladies and gents made their way down, presentable for the evening.

“Selena!” A shrill voice called from the fourth voice. Even patrons glanced up as Madame Lusine eyed the female dwarva who groaned.

“Right… have to go see her about-” She was cut off by a yawn and didn’t bother to finish as she made her way up. “Too many friggin stairs in Kirkwall.” The stomps she made purposefully alerted the Madame to her presence.

Lusine stepped up, her hands tipping her face this way and that. Had Selena not been working in a brothel where people touched her whether she wanted them to or not, she might have been offended but it was so commonplace to her now it was downright normal. If Lusine was pleased her face was no longer bruised as heavily as it had been, she didn’t say. What her dear employer did do was pull her closer, almost protectively and drew her toward her chambers. Chambers Lena had only ever been inside to empty the hearth of ashes.

“What’s happening-”

“Harlan requires your assistance.” Lusine's voice was tight and terse. Her grip tight but not in her usual angered miserly state but in a grip and shake that belied fear.

“What for?”

“The man knows better than to tell me what for or else I’d refuse him.” Lusine huffed, her hand pressed to her temple as she opened the door and shuffled the both of them in.

Harlan sat at the sole table by the hearth, the windows uncovered allowing the setting sun’s light in and casting deep dark shadows over the corners. He was eating with his feet up on the only other chair as though he owned the place, and he did actually own the place. Well co-owned but the percentage was not fifty-fifty as Lena had originally thought considering how often she saw Coterie traipsing about the Rose.

“Lena!” The man looked up with a malicious grin and gestured to the chair, taking his feet off. He sliced the chicken he was eating with a fork and knife, the spoon unused at his place. He used the knife to point at the chair, all manner of friendliness gone. “Sit.”

“What did I do?” Lena sputtered, fearful of taking a step further than was necessary. And she did _not_ sit.

The scrape of metal on ceramic stopped abruptly and even Lusine drew back away from her as the look Harlan had became dark. He chewed what was in his mouth, eyeing the fork in his hand and set it down gently. “I like this fork. Had it specially made. Know why?”

Lena gulped, shook her head.

“Sit.” He spat, teeth flashing dangerously.

“Fuck you.” _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ She shouldn’t have said that. She should _not_ have said that but she’d had it already with Harlan and his antics. First with being wrongfully saddled with this debt, then forced into giving up her maidenhead, which to be fair was a lie, and now this shit.

“Fuck me?” Harlan sat straight, teeth gritting as a chuckle rumbled its way through his chest. “Oh you _couldn’t_ afford me.” Harlan snarled and laughed. He didn’t ask again, the way he gleamed it looked like he wouldn’t but he still expected her to sit. So she sat, keeping her hands in her lap and away from his utensils. “Each prong of this fork has been sharpened, so all I have to do would be to…” Harlan used the fork to cut through the meat on his plate, slicing thin and neat slabs and then used it to stab the meat and hold it up. “If I wanted to I could use this on flesh,” Harlan scraped another piece of meat up and chewed it. “Living flesh.”

“Pretty sure the Chantry would frown on that and call it blood magic.” Lena hissed, not seeing where he was going.

“Blood magic, you’d know all about that wouldn’t you.”

“I’m a dwarf, I _wouldn’t_ know about it.”

“Oh I think you do.”

“What are you-”

“Athenril.” Harlan said, as he continued to eat. The rogue elf took one step out of the darkened shadows holding a hefty and wet bag. _Drip drip drip_ , the bag leaked. _Drip, drop, clunk,_ it was dropped on the table. A putrid smell wafted from it and the buzzing of flies made Lena’s stomach churn. Harlan was unaffected and even grinned at her, cruel and mocking. Athenril opened the bag.

Lusine gave a gasp of horror and left the room.

But Lena...Lena stayed staring at the decapitated head of the man she had killed, a man who would have raped and killed her. His two useless eyes, one with a large puncture point and the other whited over, stared back. Guilt, horror, and fear churned in her stomach. A spike of disgust as the smell of putrefaction became evident and the flies that had been freed lingered. Lena looked up at Harlan who was unaffected, even Athenril stood by like it was nothing.

“You did a number on him.” Harlan spoke and drained his wine glass.

She was afraid to open her mouth. Not because she’d throw up, oh no she would definitely be throwing up, but because of what she might say.

“Had anyone from the chantry seen the mess you left, they’d be on a hunt for a blood mage right about now.” Athenril spoke up. “As it were, I was nearby.”

“And you didn’t hear my screams?!” Lena snapped, glowering at Athenril.

“It was Darktown.” Athenril replied, as though that absolved her for her lack of involvement.

Lena had a retort, but she swallowed it. She couldn’t blame Athenril, she really couldn’t. It was the same reason why no one ever helped those being attacked in rougher neighborhoods, hell even in nice ones as well on Earth. The damn Bystander effect. _This is Kirkwall, there are no good samaritans._ She laughed, bitterly and slumped in her chair.

“You’re laughing.” Lena had nearly forgotten Harlan’s presence. “You shouldn’t be.” The head of the Coterie wiped at the knife with a cloth, making it clean and shine. “His name was Viktor. My right hand man.”

All the blood drained from Lena, her head light. _Shit._

“Ah, there’s the reaction I wanted. Fear, finally some damn respect from you.” Harlan sighed.

“I didn’t mean to…” Lena tried. This time it was Harlan that laughed.

“Oh I dare say you _meant_ to.”

“He was going to rape me!” She frantically added.

“So you accuse him of stealing from me?” Harlan smirked.

 _Stealing? STEALING?!_ She snapped and grabbed the forgotten spoon. “Steal?! Raping is stealing to you?!” She roared, pushing the decapitated head off the table and all but climbed over to grab at Harlan’s neck. Short chubby fingers gripping, thumbs pressed into his adam’s apple. “You son of a bitch, I’m a fucking _person_.”

“What do you plan on doing with that spoon, Lena?” Athenril asked, but Lena didn’t look her way. “It’s not sharp enough for anything useful.”

“Weapons don’t have to be sharp.” She seethed, her shoulders tense. “I’m sure I can think of something to do with a spoon given the right amount of force. I wonder how many scoops your cock would measure out.” Lena growled bitter and low. “ Probably no more than five.”

“Magnificent.” Harlan replied, a large grin spread across his face and completely unaffected by her threat.

“Do you think this is a fucking game?! Don’t think I won’t.” Knuckles white, she wasn’t sure if she could follow through.

“I have no doubt you can, but I have Athenril here.” Harlan gestured to the elf who had pulled her daggers out yet hadn’t moved to remove her. “This is why I prefer having women work for me. You lot can get _real_ creative and it’s beautiful.” He pried her fingers from his throat. “Be a little civilized Lena, your knee is in my dinner.”

Coming down, her eyes glanced at Athenril and then at Harlan who weren’t making threats. Even Athenril slid her daggers back to their hidden spots. So against all better judgements and instincts, she slipped back into her chair.

“I’m not mad- well yes I am mad. Not because you killed him. Actually I’m rather impressed. But, see he was investigating something for me. He was good at that, _investigating_ . His techniques never failed to get the information I wanted. And well now I’m down an _investigator._ ” Harlan explained continuing to eat his food, unfazed by the smell of the head. He eyed the rocking head and then eyed Lena. He nodded his head to Athenril who rolled the head back into the bag and dropped it by Lena’s feet. “Consider it a trophy, and...” Here he dug around in his jacket and dropped a small purse of coin. “This is an advance.”

“An advance?” She picked up the coin purse and eyed the gold coins, fingers quickly counting _seventeen sovereigns_. “An advance to what?” Voice pitched high in fear, she stared wide eyed. What would she have to do for this kind of coin?

“In a week’s time, you’re to accompany Athenril to Sundermount.” Harlan continued, unfazed by her outburst. “Viktor had a lead on a thief amongst our ranks. You’re to find the thief and get all information you can out of them. Their accomplices, who they were selling the lyrium to, and find their stashes and where they’ve been keeping the gold.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Lena gaped and he peeked at her. “You want me to _what_?!”

“I don’t want you to do anything.” Harlan said as he pushed the mostly empty plate away. “I _expect_ you to do it.” Harlan didn’t have to try to appear sinister, it was all in the way he presented himself. “Do a good enough job and you may just have a new position in the Coterie.”

“And if I refuse to do this?”

The sharpened fork slammed into the table, the metal ringing and shaking. “I don’t like being disappointed.” Harlan got up. “Oh and I haven’t taken a cut to pay off your debt from the advance. You still owe me… what was it...”

“Nine sovereigns, ser.” Athenril finished.

“Right.” Harlan patted Lena’s stiff shoulder on his way out. “Athenril, make sure she gets proper leathers. And for maker’s sake take her to get a decent dagger or two.”

The door shut behind him and it was just Lena and Athenril.

Silence stretched between them, until Lena blinked. “I’m going to sleep.”

“No you’re not. We’re going to get you measured. Best to do it now.” Athenril went to snatch the coin purse but Lena slammed her hand over it. She’d gotten paranoid when it came to coin nowadays.

Athenril first suggested she do something with the head, which all Lena could think to do was drop it on the roof for her to deal with later. With any luck it will be maggoty and most of it rotted out but she knew that would take days, maybe even weeks to achieve and the smell would just nauseate her.

Once that was taken care of her brain effectively shut off for the duration of the early evening. So numb was she, that she didn’t even notice where they had gone to get her measured and outfitted. She only remembered saying she wanted a fur lined hooded jacket and six sovereigns being deposited. Lena did take note of the sign on the Darktown shop, but she could barely read it without her glasses.

Another four sovereigns went to a decent pair of daggers and sheaths that she holstered to her waist and hid with her cloak. They weren’t fancy, but they were enchanted. One had a heating rune and it glowed red with heat when she rubbed her thumb over the rune and the other had a frost rune to it and the metal slicked with ice when activated. She didn’t name them.

The leathers wouldn’t be ready for another day, which meant Lena was free for the night If she didn’t have to work, she wasn’t going to. Especially if she did this right.  _I can do this._ She _could_ do this. Pay off her debt and have coin to spare. She could. It just meant potentially torturing someone for information.

Her body halted. Killing someone was one thing, especially in self defense. But torture? Human suffering like that? Sure she could _write_ about it in her stories but doing it? She didn’t think she had the stomach for it. Then again she never thought she’d have the stomach to kill someone let alone be forced into a situation where it was necessary. _Kill or be violated and then killed._

It was a grim reality but the one she lived in now. If she was being honest with herself, which she almost never was, it was the reality she always lived in but home had far more barriers between that kind of mentality. There was layers of comfort and luxury she enjoyed. She gave up certain freedoms in hopes of the government keeping her safe. She trusted in the police, she trusted the system. She had always been aware law and order sometimes failed but she never suspected it would fail for her. She had been privileged, while technically she shouldn’t have as she is of Latina heritage but she was white passing. Lena was never targeted, never pulled over, and never truly victimized by the law or order. Certainly she was victimized by other means, but not in the way so many of her home were targeted and kept down.

Here, she was a dwarf. While she wasn’t an elf or a mage, thank the Cosmos for that, it still wasn’t a favorable position race wise. Or gender wise. Was there ever an instance where being a woman meant you were in a position of power? The Chantry perhaps but even then she remembered how some of the brothers of the Chantry and the Templar Order behaved in game.

The humans were the privileged of this world and she could not rely on being able to pass as one because she was short and stout. _I’m not a fucking teapot._

The only law and order here was the Chantry and city guards and almost everyone knew both were corrupt and easily swayed by those with coin and influence. So the only law and order that truly mattered was the law of the streets. Reputation and favors or violence and force. You either accrued enough reputation and favors, similarly coin, to sway people or you had the strength and propensity for the latter to bully the matter. Neither of which Lena currently possessed.

She gave a low somber laugh as Chantry bells signaled the sixth hour of the day post meridiem and thus the last of the day’s service. _Speaking of the Chantry._ Gaze drawn to the large opulent structure over the tops of the Hightown buildings, she veered off course and headed that way. The exhaustion made her vision blurry but she knew the way, didn’t need to take any special roads.

Some of the dwarves she had met used the Chantry as a placeholder for their temples down in Orzammar, when they used to be in Orzammar before exile or being forced to leave. Who is to say she can’t use it as a place for mental cleansing in a similar fashion? Or more accurately, cleansing of her mortal soul.

There were still a few souls milling about the Chantry, hunched in prayer. Some sisters offered guidance and she spied the confessionals. She wasn’t religious, hell she wasn’t even spiritual, but if this place could offer some comfort for her, some peace of mind for the thing she had to do, then let it. Even if it meant lying to herself and to a cleric.

Lena didn’t go for the confessional, instead she knelt at the pews and let the ambiance wash over her.  Churches back home held a comfort and beauty and even in the Chantry it was no different, despite the corruption.  The problem however came with her no longer moving.  As soon as her eyes closed with the smell of incense and the soft chanting rolling over her, she was out. Her body slumping and eventually dropping to the floor as she slept.

The Chantry cleared and no one paid much mind to the lump covered by a grey cloak that practically blended with the Chantry floor and pews. She curled into herself, the cold winter air settling into her bones as a small puddle of drool formed beneath her head.

It was the slamming of a door that jolted her awake. Blearily she sat up, slipping on her own drool once and then gripping the pews.

“- know what you’ve been doing.”

“Sister, what are you talking about?”

With her record involving eavesdropping, you’d think Lena would get up and leave but her ears pricked. She knew that second voice.

“I know what you sneak out to do.”

"You must be confused." 

“Tell me, does Elthina know her golden boy sins so frequently?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh but you do. Every whore this side of Kirkwall knows your voice.”

“Stop it.”

“Isn’t your propensity for the sins of the flesh the reason you were sent here?”

“Please, Sister, you don’t understand.”

“Oh I think i do understand. You’re quite naughty, for a Prince.”

“How did you-”

“You think we didn’t know?”

“Stop- what are you doing.”

“I want to hear what those whores heard, how your voice sounds when you groan to completion.”

“Stop it sister.  Please.”

“Why are you fighting, you so clearly want this.”

“No,”  his voice whimpered. “I don’t.”

“Then why are you so hard? Be good now, I’ll take care of that problem.”

“Stop it.”

“I _said_ be good,”  There was a slap of flesh against flesh. “Or do you want Elthina to know?” There was a giggle. “You can confess your sin later.”

“No… please, maker no,” Came his cries.

The two hadn’t noticed the hooded figure grab the closest blunt object, a statue of Andraste, as she drew closer and closer.  The image of Prince Vael, culled and blackmailed, forced into this encounter left the figure furious.  Her exhaustion and rage at the tipping point.  Sebastian was hers. Not as her lover, but one of her own.  One she took care of in a safe manner, in a safe environment and with consent _._

This was not safe. There was no consent in this. His expression twisted in pain and revulsion, tears pricking at his eyes as the Sister knelt, bobbing her head.

She waited.  She wanted to stop her then, but she didn’t want to cause harm to such a delicate area. It pained her to not jump in but what little clarity she had, forced her to pause. Too long she watched the exchange until the offender was mounting him and she lashed forward.

The statue was heavy in her grip as she bashed her away from him _._ The woman, who she noted was blonde, flew to the side and Madame River didn’t wait as she pounced.  Anger at her own almost violation days prior, anger at the murder she had to commit, anger at Harlan forcing her into a task she was terrified of, anger at having to watch her _pet_ be violated,  and anger at Kirkwall and the shit fest that it truly was flowed through each swing of her arm.  Tears burned but they did not fall as she raised the statue again and again, each squish letting her know she hit her mark until it was metal on bone that clanged in the empty Chantry. The face of Sebastian’s attacker was an amalgamation of flesh and blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets see. Lena's crimes thus far are prostitution and two counts of murder. And conspiracy to commit murder and/or torture. Kirkwall is a fucked up place guys. It brings out the absolute worst in you unless you're an inherently good person, of which Lena is not. 
> 
> This chapter was written to the tunes of [Heathens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Am6iIqPXHY) by Twenty One PIlots. ~~No... I have not watched Suicide Squad yet, it's just a really good song~~
> 
> Let me know what ya'll thought this chapter?


	12. Whisper in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena paused and looked back. “Varric. Sebastian. Come share the bed with me?” She crooned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank [mayamelissa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayamelissa/pseuds/Mayamelissa) for helping me with this chapter! She got me out of a rut for this chapter.

_Unless you’re profoundly stupid or slow, getting away with murder in Hightown is so easy it’s downright criminal._

_The Madame had never been prone to physical violence before. Sure, she knew she’d been a bully towned the school children growing up - an unavoidable byproduct of growing up with a ruffian father and a manipulator of a mother that did not direct their negative habits at her but rather passed them on to their child. This anger, this pure sense of violence she openly and rampantly displayed, could not be consolidated with the reason for why she did it. There was of course one theory, one she vehemently did not wish to entertain, that she was already invested in Gaston on an emotional level. It was a terrible circumstance to befall her, terrible indeed. A fate that was wicked and wrong because he is_ Prince _Gaston Stark of Haven Falls and she just murdered someone to protect him._

_No submissive of hers can say she fought someone off for them. No pet she has ever had can claim she went that far to make sure they were safe. This was bad on all kinds of levels. Not just for her morality and sanity but for her freedom as well. She just killed a sister of the cloth in the middle of their sacred temple._

_“You… you killed her.” Gaston muttered, the shock finally wearing and whittling away his silence. The Madame’s hood was drawn back, the splatters of blood staining her hands, the guts -_

“Viscera. If you’re going to write this into a story for your own entertainment, the least you can do is use my advanced vocabulary, Tethras.” Selena crooned over the goblet he had served her of ale. She was remarkably calm for someone who just returned from committing rage induced murder, her human accomplice in tow with a single container of what she called ‘fats for soap.’ Varric would have to ask her about that, he wasn’t entirely sure he heard her correctly.

“Pardon me, Madame River, I didn’t know I was dealing with a fellow storyteller.” He slipped a smirk in place as he sipped his own watered down ale. He still couldn’t touch the stuff even a year after _her_ death. But far be it from him to deprive his companion of the drink. She looked like she needed it.

“Could'a swore I told you I used to write.” She slurred her words and laid her head down.

“Perhaps you did.” He responded, his gaze heavy on her as she dozed off for the sixth time that night. Her eyes half opened looked a hundred leagues away. A drip of drool pooled from her open mouth. Selena was the picture of exhaustion with dark circles under her eyes and her pallid complexion. Not to mention he could detect how her clothes fitted her a touch to loose to be healthy. She’d lost some of her drastic curves since the last time he’d seen her.

Varric wanted to pick her up and tuck her into bed, _his_ bed specifically, and feed her. It was like she begged to be taken care of one moment and the next she was completely capable of taking care of herself.

But would he bring it up with her? Not a chance. She was the type of woman who resented anyone going out of their way to help her. But she wasn't too stubborn to admit when she actually needed help. Like now, she needed an alibi. Too many people had seen her head to the Chantry and no one had seen her exit. There was a sister missing. _Not murdered._ There was no proof of that. No body as it just so happened he knew one of the Undertakers, they'll light the pyre a little early tomorrow. They owed him.

The only proof left behind was the glass jar she had brought with her that sat on the floor. The _viscera_ filling it.

The problem of course came when the Guard would be called to find out why a Sister was missing. And if they find any evidence of her - ahem - _disappearance_ , the Order would be called down. That would spell trouble for everyone involved.

Under normal circumstance he might have told her to just be open about what she saw and did but...

“I cannot thank you enough, Messere.” Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven exited Varric's bed chambers with a bundle of plain clothes.

There was _him_ to contend and deal with. The Prince was the reason Lena had even come here, seeking Varric out specifically for help. He wasn’t exactly about to turn her down now that she was actually looking for help. From what he’s heard, she’s had a rough couple of days.

 _That’s an understatement._ _More like a rough couple of months._

He had a lot of questions for Lena. Yet she was evasive, hiding something even when he asked about her. She was slippery but if there was any time he’d be able to get straight answers it’d be now. Questions like, why was she in the Chantry in the first place outside of Sundays? How does she know a prince of Starkhaven? Why does she know him well enough to go out of her way to save him? Why’d a human prince take orders from her?

He would have asked her now but Varric didn’t have it in him to wake her. She looked like she needed a week’s worth of sleep and a few good meals in her.

One question he would be asking her is if she’d become Andrastian? From their dinner discussions he thought she was - what did she call it? - _Agnostic_ with a misguided optimism that the _universe_ was like a clock. She called it the Watchmaker Theory. Varric’s never even seen a watch or a clock before but she knew about them well enough to put forth the idea that everything that happened was part of a schedule. Every event in history was supposed to happen and everything that as of yet to happen will happen. But if you mess with one of the gears - how did she know about gears? - things will still happen but certain events will be delayed, or perhaps even sped up. It was an interesting analogy that left him ordering a clock from Orzammar. It had yet to arrive.

Varric tapped his finger along the book he’d been writing Selena’s tale as Sebastian bowed his head in gratitude. The shirt and cloak the Chantry initiate held was clean of blood. Clearly the archer has had to do this before, whether for himself or someone else was up to debate.

Varric turned a not so friendly gaze toward the human. At first glance Sebastian Vael didn't look like a prince. He appeared, for all intents and purposes like a chantry initiate. But once in the room, there was no doubt about it. The way he held himself, the rampant optimism that Varric would help them. His fingers were calloused, and Varric recognized a Royal Archer's grip, well practiced but still softened from lack of use on the battlefield, or even on the streets of Kirkwall. Not like his own fingers and hands, but they both enjoyed a life of luxury. The difference between them was Varric never gave up the life in the Underbelly of Kirkwall. Whereas Vael enjoyed luxury all his life, and continued to do so even now in the Chantry.

"You know I'm not doing this to help _you_ ." Varric was upfront but still smiled. Mostly because he didn’t like the guy. _Something_ was up and his favorite dwarf had suffered, not as a direct result of his actions but his inaction. “And she isn’t doing this for herself, either." Varric did not look away, even as Vael attempted to sit at the table, until he caught his glare. _Don’t you dare._ Sebastian moved an extra seat away. Good at least he understood to keep his distance.

“I’m well aware. You have no obligations to me and neither does she yet I am thankful.” The Prince spoke sincerely and with so much heart. Varric couldn’t detect a trace of a lie in anything he said.

They both looked to Selena when she mumbled something and snorted, deep and loud before her hand slipped under her head and her eyes finally closed shut. Gentle snores coming out of her that quickly became obnoxious.

That's something he liked about her. She never tried to hide her unlady like qualities. Other women would be embarrassed if they knew they’d done snorted or drooled in the presence of the _Merchant Prince_ and an actual Human Prince. Lena however didn’t even care. He could already imagine what she’d say if anyone brought it up. She was hopelessly unapologetic.

Again he contemplated tucking her into his bed and making sure she never got out. It’d be the second woman in his bed in a week.

Varric shook his head and turned his attention back on the task on hand. “What I want to know is why she’s going out of her way to make sure none of this comes back to you or your family?”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” Sebastian answered, not turning his gaze away from Lena.

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” Varric squinted.

“I honestly don’t know. But she’s a very caring woman.” Sebastian smiled, and the _way_ he smiled left Varric irritated. Warm, happy, and trusting. It made his teeth ache. “What did she ask of you?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Lena groaned. “Are my two favorite boys behaving?” She mumbled, head raising.

 _Boys?_ Varric narrowed his gaze on her. “Had a good nap?”

“Mhm yeah could use a longer one.”

“You’ve definitely missed too many nights of sleep,” Varric smirked, watching as she cringed and rubbed at her eyes.

“Exactly what are you implying, Tethras?” Her narrowed gaze was affronted.

“I’m saying you look like shit still,” Varric grinned at her bleary eyed stare. Sebastian gave an affronted gasp, mouth opening to defend her but Lena snorted.

“I know right? I feel like shit too. Didn’t help I was covered in shit either.” _There was his Lena._ “Not everyone can be as pretty as you, Tethras.” She yawned and reached for the mug of ale.

“Mam-” Sebastian paused, cheeks tinging red before he continued. _What was he about to call her?_ “Messere you should apologize, Madame Lena is the picture of beauty.” Sebastian looked cross, fingers clenched tight.

“Relax. It’s just what we do.” Lena waved him off with a sleepy grin. “Varric, did you...do what I ask?”

“I already sent word.”

“You did? When?”

“The moment you came barreling into the Hanged Man.” It was true. He already knew she needed something otherwise she wouldn’t have come stumbling through halfway to dawn, and with a _human_ in tow no less. Thankfully Corff knew her well enough to usher her up to his room while he got them drinks and food. Speaking of, he slid the plate toward her. “You should eat.”

She didn’t fight him. Didn’t even snap at him about her being able to take care of herself, or ask how much it was going to cost her this time.

Varric stopped smiling. Whatever had happened tonight, rattled her.

“Food is so comforting.” She said around mouthfuls of stew and bread, attempting to smile. It did not reach her tired eyes

“Lena, are you well?” Sebastian tried

Varric sent him a withering look as Lena stopped eating. Her mouth opened slightly to answer but nothing came out.

“So. What happened next?” Varric interjected and smoothed the page of his journal. Selena sent him a grateful look.

_The Madame’s hood was drawn back, the splatters of blood staining her hands, the viscera dripped off her clothes. She looked back to Gaston, cold and unfeeling before she blinked weary eyed at him. Then she turned back to the victim below her and retched-_

“Let’s remove that part. I think our readers would much prefer to hear about how the Madame shrugged it off after saving her swain in suffering.” Varric cocked a brow at her but she didn’t respond, not at first. Her eyes narrowed and head tilted, the curls of her hair were long and fell across her shoulders. Varric restrained himself from reaching over and curling one ringlet around his fingers and from bringing her hair up to his nose to smell. They were really quite beautiful. He’d only ever seen curls like this from those of Rivaini descent and never on a dwarf. Yet despite how she had smelled the last time he’d seen Lena, he knew she had bathed. He hoped she had used what he’d sent her with Denier.

“Sorry did you say _Swain_ in _Suffering_?’ Lena finally asked with a snort. At the twinkle in his eye she giggled and then full blown cackled. He’d had a feeling she’d appreciate that and it was good to see her smiling and laughing again rather than the silent reserved way she’d been all night. “The male equivalent of damsel in distress! I love it!”

“Am I supposed to be the damsel in this story you’re writing?” Sebastian asked, tuning in.

Varric refrained from gritting his teeth. The Choir-Boy was still here, afterall. As if he could forget.

“Oh you’re _totally_ the damsel in this story.” Lena snickered.

“A don in danger.” Varric offered and Lena howled.

“A perplexed prince!” Lena traded back.

“The knight in need.” Varric grinned at Lena’s responding breathless wheeze, her face red as she laughed, happy tears leaking out.

“I still don’t see how I was in distress.” Sebastian pouted. Varric rolled his eyes.

“Did I not swoop in and save you from that wretched woman?” Lena joked and swatted at Sebastian’s shoulder playfully. Sebastian’s eyes alight.

“Well I wouldn’t say swoop-” Sebastian tried to defend himself but even he didn’t put the full effort

“I can describe it as swooping if you want, River.” Tethras took up the quill to give a minor edit.

She snorted, leaning back. “No no. Because… because…” Her shoulders shook and her hand slapped the table. Her voice pitched low and she took on a typical Ferelden accent. “Swooping is Bad.” And she peeled into laughter, tears pricking at her eyes.

Both Varric and Sebastian watched her mirth though they shared a look. _Was it really that funny?_

“Care to share the joke?” Varric asked but her laughter died down and she wiped at her tears.

“Oh..” She coughed and took on that shifty look where she looked both left and right, like looking for a way out. She was hiding something or on the verge of saying something she shouldn’t. “Oh no I can’t share it. It’s sorry, some _friends_ of mine from before I came to Kirkwall made this joke. It’s funnier if you were there. Sorry.” And she took on a somber look, her gaze far away, but her lips stretched wide in mirth still.

Ah. He made her think of home. He still wasn’t sure exactly where she grew up. None of his sources have been able to dig up anything and she was still evasive when he directed their dinner conversation toward it. He had to admit she was good at keeping a lid on her past.

“Varric, do you mind if I borrow your bed again?” She asked around a yawn.

“You’re _asking_ this time?” Varric quipped back and she grinned again, her eyelids fluttering at him as she winked at him with cheek.

“Right… you’re right. I should have just borrowed it anyway. Better to ask forgiveness than permission after all.” She jumped out of her chair and stumbled toward his bed chambers. Except she paused and looked back. “Varric. Sebastian. Come share the bed with me?” She crooned.

Sebastian choked, cheeks tinged red and he looked toward Varric with wide unsure eyes. His reaction wasn’t all that interesting, he is after all a Chantry initiate. But the storyteller was used to her flirtations, used to her overly perverse nature and simply grinned her way.

“Sure, thing Madame. Be there in a moment.” He called to her and she grinned and bounced off with the last of her energy.

“You you- don’t mind sharing her with me?” Sebastian stammered. Now _that_ got his interest. “Mama is quite masterful but I don’t know how she’d handle both of us. I’m already quite a handful for her, or so she says.” Sebastian continued, cheeks becoming more and more inflamed.

What in Andraste’s tits was he on about? He called her _Mama_ and said she called him a handful. If Sebastian is saying what he thinks he’s saying... _well then_. He piled the papers he’d been working on together, a sinking disappointment barely registered but he didn’t let on, instead Varric played along. “She never takes on more than she can handle. She’s good at that, knowing her limits.”

“Yes, she is.” Choir-Boy agreed and his eyes got dark as he looked him over. Varric’s brows rose and glared back. He was used to women and men sending him that look, but not in a way that suggested that intensity. “She’s taught me so much about my own limits as well.” Sebastian confessed with a sigh, the red in his cheeks not going away even as his shoulders sagged. “Truthfully I almost thought something was _wrong_ with me. I believed that only the Chantry and love in the Maker and Andraste would heal me of my whoring ways”

“And now?”

“Mama has shown me it is perfectly normal.” He sighed and looked toward the bed chambers, anxious. “I… are we to keep her waiting? She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Sebastian squirmed and stood.

“She can learn to be patient.” Varric muttered, entirely intrigued by Choir-Boy now, if a bit jealous. _No, not jealous._

“Mama... _learn_ to be patient. I- are you the one who taught her?” Sebastian leaned forward in awe. “Are you her dominant?”

Varric’s Wicked Grace face was tested and tried true then as he considered Sebastian’s words with a grin. _My my, River you’ve been holding out._ “Am _I …_ you’re asking if I dominate her?” He fought the urge to laugh. Although…dominating Lena would be educational. Images of her tied up didn’t bring any pleasure but, maybe... _Hmm._ He’d have to have a very in depth discussion with her about this later. What exactly did dominating anyone entail? He had to admit this was one subject he wasn’t knowledgeable about. It would make for a scandalous twist to the Tale of the Rogue Madame.

“What’s taking so long?” Lena’s voice carried. Both men looked to each other, sizing the other up, although Varric felt a chill down his spine when Sebastian licked his lips eagerly. He set his papers aside and rose.

“Sadly, I think it’s best our dear Lena get her rest.” Varric told Sebastian when he saw him hastily get up.

“Oh.” He spoke, disappointment clear.

“Until I hear back from my contact, you might want to make yourself comfortable.” Varric gestured to the ale and the plates of food. It was nearing dawn anyway and well he could use some sleep as well but not while he had guests. He slipped off the chair and strode toward his bed chambers. He wasn’t sure what to expect but Lena curled up in his bed in one of his tunics, _again_ , was not it. Her clothes neatly folded and placed on the chest. She looked to be sleeping but as he got closer, his feet light, she peeked out at him and the corners of her lips lifted.

“Varric.” She whined. It wasn’t a happy whine, or a whine in jest. Her nose scrunched as she sniffed and he noted the wet clumps of her lashes. Glossy brown eyes stared up at him.

“Selena?”

“Varric...I’ve never…” She whispered and licked her lips, her throat heavy as she swallowed a lump. “I’ve never killed anyone before in my life.” She broke into a small sob that she fought off, hand flashing to her face to wipe her tears before they could fall.

 _Oh shit._ He swore, kicked his shoes off and curled under the blanket with her, letting her slip into his arms. He remembered the first time he had killed someone, it’d been over a decade ago. It’s never pretty the first time and it never gets any easier. The toll it took on him was harsh and heavy. It dragged him down until eventually he could bear the thought of ending someone's existence and sending them to the Maker's side.

Varric had figured anyone who lived in Kirkwall to their age would have had to kill someone eventually, or several someones. He’d been so sure she was capable enough to do it, he hadn’t considered Lena had been free of that burden for so long. Well now he was more surprised she had managed to stay calm and collected, even joking with them to distract herself.

They were more alike than he cared to admit.

“I’m scared to close my eyes.” She admitted. “I’m scared to fall asleep. I’m going to see them. I know it. I’ll see them right there when my eyes close and then I know it will get worse when I dre-” She cut herself off suddenly and gasped.

He pulled back and looked at her. “When you what?”

Her mouth was pert open and eyes wide with realization. What had she just figured out?

“I...uh. I…” She stammered then covered her mouth. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, Lena.”

She grinned, in that regrettably familiar way that didn’t reach her eyes and was both solemn and dark. “I know.” He was curious but there were other matters that were far more important. “Varric… where’s Sebastian?”

“Choir-Boy’s-” He began but she snickered. “What?”

“You’re calling him Choir-Boy?”

“You don’t like my choice in nicknames?”

“Oh no I love it. Do I get a nickname?”

“I thought you already had one?”

“I do? Which one?”

“ _Mama._ ”

Her cheeks blossomed as her mouth dropped aghast he had said that. Varric’s laughter rumbled and she groaned, turning away from him and burying her face in his pillow. Well if he couldn’t have her, he’d tease her endlessly.

“Don’t call me that!” Muffled as her voice was, he understood.

“Aw, but you were blushing when I did.” He cooed into her ear, the way her flush traveled from her cheeks to her ears and neck did not escape his notice. But he pulled back, distancing himself before he pressed his face to the warm flesh. “Sebastian is in the other room, I came to check in on you.”

“Tethras, I was serious about sharing the bed. He must be exhausted. You as well.” She exasperated.

“It’s not nice to invite other men into my bed.” Varric couldn’t help himself. “Unlike you, _I_ don’t like sharing.” He whispered into her ear. Her breath hitched, eyes widening and that flush traveled down her chest. His gaze following the heated flesh to the swell of her ample bosom swathed in _his_ tunic.

“Varric…” Her voice breathy as she shifted closer.

He really should have stopped himself. The trail of his fingers sliding up her waist, thumbs teasing the sides of her breasts and she shivered.

“Selena.” He breathed back and closed the distance between them He really shouldn’t, but the way her lips parted and the dark glossy appearance of her eyes, she drew him in. His arm that curled underneath her, brushed her hair and pulled one curled lock. His fingers twirled it until the lock curled around his finger.

Her hands slid up and clasped the back of his neck, their lips so close. They breathed each other in.

Varric tilted his head and kissed her. Their lips melding together, carressing against each other. A swell of an unfamiliar emotion rose in him, one he really couldn’t do justice. Not with all the words he could think of. Nothing could describe what he was feeling and more importantly what he was feeling for Lena. So he didn’t try; he just felt.

She scraped the back of his neck, using the pads of her fingers to slide up. His small ponytail coming undone under her fingers, the leather tie falling. He groaned when she yanked at his hair and pushed closer. The faint whine building in her. She wanted more, more than he knew he should give her. She was just so impatient and wanted it now. Yet he wanted her to savor this, whatever _this_ was between them.

Varric had the feeling that all affections she’s ever known was quick and fleeting. He wanted this to _last._ It’s what made it so intoxicating to kiss her, and why he had to pull away before he got too caught up and too carried away.

Breathless they stared at each other, heavy panting hot air between them. His forehead pressed to hers. Varric was most attracted to her eyes. He’d never seen anyone with eyes that dark brown - no umber and deep around Kirkwall. He’d seen many brown eyes that were lighter that looked at him the way Lena was doing. Full of lust, want, open to affection and wanting that affection to be given. Her lips stretched wide. He’d never get tired of her smiles, the way when she truly smiled it brightened her eyes until the faint gold and green flecks shone. She took a deep breath and the smile faltered, her eyes guarding as she sighed.

“Your sheets smells like sex by the way.” Lena teased as she shifted back. And just like that, the door slammed behind her eyes and she was pulling back.

Stilling, he stared as guilt swirled inside him. _Bianca_. The smith who had, not two days prior had been spread out across his bed, staring at him in glee. He’d given her what she wanted, and her what he needed at the time. He thought it was what he wanted. Bianca’s hands sliding across his back as they kissed, his hips thrusting into her. Varric really shouldn’t have indulged her. She was set to be engaged, married off in a year to the eldest Vasca.

Old habits die hard.

He’s known Bianca most of his life. Not directly of course but they crossed paths several times. He specifically had been hoping to not have to go to her for help with the crossbow.

“Sebastian!” Lena turned in his arms, her mass of curls tempting him to breath her in. The Choir-Boy tentatively walked in. “Come on, you need to sleep.” The way she spoke to him, was like she was speaking to a misbehaving child.

“Lena.” he warned as Sebastian’s gaze raked over them both.

“It’s just sleep. Nothing more.” She promised and yawned again as Sebastian waited, looking at him.

“Fine, but no sex in my bed.” Varric sighed.

“Of course. Only you get to have sex in your bed.” Lena teased.

He rolled his eyes, pressing his face to her hair and smelling her unfamiliar soap and no perfume. “You didn’t use my gifts?”

“I can’t use your gifts.” She responded lowly.

“Why not?”

“They’re much too expensive.”

“Noted. I’ll get you soap that smells like nugshit next time.” He joked.

She chuckled and elbowed him. “You don’t have to gift me things.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” He retorted. “Neither do you…” He didn’t have a problem with her whoring for coin. If that was how she wanted to earn her living, then that was her prerogative. But last he heard she only had one client. Varric eyed Choir-Boy as he slipped under the blanket, hunched over to get into the dwarf sized bed and settling next to Lena. Too close to her if he had anything to say about it, but he didn’t voice it. “You could always sell what I gift you.”

She grumbled. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then stop complaining.” He grinned. Her breath was evening out.

For a long time all three of them were quiet. Varric intended on slipping out, but then Lena turned again and faced him. “Buy me a dress.” She huffed sleepily, fighting off the inevitable.

“Forest green?” He asked trailing her jaw with a lock of her hair.

“Mhm..”

“Would it be presumptuous of me to say I can buy you a necklace as well?” He pressed his luck but she didn’t say no as she finally fell asleep. He grinned, triumphant. He didn’t sleep, but did slip out when he heard a faint knock. He woke up Choir-Boy and had him escorted through Darktown by his contact and back toward the Chantry dorms before anyone would miss him.

With that settled he sat down and continued writing the tale she’d told him. He still couldn’t believe how she managed to move the body. He’d have to ask her again one day when it stung her less. For now though…

" _We have to move the body.” She touched the Prince’s face, leaving bloody prints on his tanned flesh. “We have to dispose of it. If the Paladins find us… they’ll kill us both. It needs to be gone before they find us.”_

_“Her.” Sebastian muttered. “She had a name.”_

_“Right now I don’t give a fuck what her name was. She was hurting you, I took care of the problem, understand?!” She whispered angrily at him as he came down. “Tuck yourself back in.”_

_He slowly did as she asked. “She was a Sister of the cloth, she deserves respect. Sister Petrice was-”_

_Her body stilled, long and heavy as her eyes widened. “Petrice? That was Sister Petrice?!” Her body turned to the mess she’d made on the marble floor of the temple, staring for too long. She shook her head. “She was a rapist. Would you be saying the same thing if she’d been a brother who preyed on women?”_

_“No-”_

_“Then stop your fucking double standard.”_

_“She was still of the cloth-”_

_“She deserves_ **_nothing_** _, less than nothing. She was nothing but a waste of space and breath, undeserving of the Maker’s forgiveness. The void is too good for her.” She spat and pulled a curtain down. “Now help me clean this mess up.”_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what ya'll thought!


	13. Delinquent Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Targets and wet jaws, oh la la la. Lets start earning more of the fun side of a **NSFW** tag.

Dreams. There had been dreams for her as usual. How six months passed without her realizing she continued to have dreams was beyond her. The last week she hadn’t slept, too fearful of what her dreams would show her but she hadn’t had any weird fade like dreams ever since arriving in Kirkwall. It took that fear for her to realize it. There would be no demons to plague her dreams, just her own subconscious, which she had learned how to control the dreams that produced. So she slept light and fitfully, mumbling as she tried to make sure she said nothing to reveal that she was _dreaming_.

It didn’t make sense. Back home dreams allowed one to go over the day’s events, to process the information you took in but dreams as Thedas knows it mean something else. Dreams on Thedas meant visiting the Fade and potentially encountering spirits and demons. But dwarves didn’t dream, or if they did they lacked the capacity to remember them. At least not since the veil went up. Lena thought she was a dwarf, but if she can still dream...well now that didn’t make any sense.

Groaning with a sleep heavy voice into Varric’s pillow, she hogged his bed, turning only once the mid-afternoon light came down from the high windows. It was as quiet as Kirkwall could get and as quiet as the Hanged Man would get. The orphanage next door was up and about and the faint screams of the children playing filtered in, the pub downstairs was in full swing and in this room she lay.

Varric’s sheets didn’t reek of sex as strongly as they had the night prior. A funny sort of twist in her chest had her clutching the sheets tighter at the idea that he’d slept with Bianca. And yet he still had kissed her last night. _Probably to comfort me._ She rubbed her face. Twas her own fault as she had vowed to not change anything and this happened. Now she gets to watch his heartbreak over Bianca marrying someone else and the pain of her dragging him along. All because she had refused to change it, refused to interfere, and refused to mess up the impending timeline.

A lot of good that did. She _killed_ Sister Petrice. Without Petrice, Ketojan or whatever that  Saarebas’s name was would not be found separate. Without Petrice there wouldn’t be any Qunari kidnapped. Without Petrice the problems with the Arishok and the Qunari in Kirkwall wouldn’t rise. But how far did those changes reach? What long passing change had she made? Would the interactions between the Qunari and Southern Thedas would be less hostile? Would it mean the Qunari would go to the Inquisition at a later date to tell them about Fen’harel’s plan? How greatly could she actually affect this world? Would certain events still happen like she thought they would? She’d have to find some way to test it out. Hopefully with something smaller, less impact, and a little closer in the timeline to see. A control group so to speak.

Based on the current year what happened between 9:27 and 9:30 that she could try to change to test? She’d have to try and remember finite details.

Rolling over, she climbed out and made a beeline to empty her bladder behind the curtain. What she wouldn’t give for a proper bathroom with a toilet and a sink and a _shower._  Someone really needed to get on that, invent it or suggest it to the right people. Or heck even she could draw a design for a basic cistern…

Lena needed paper and charcoal with desperation right then and there. Turning about face with a sharpness she spotted Varric at the open door of two.

“You know we’ve got to stop meeting like this…” He cocked a smirk at her as he leaned against the door. His chest and arms on display as his sleeves were rolled up and what looked like a few black stains on his fingers. The physique of his forearms were tense, after having done something that required _heavy_ lifting, the sharp contours of his tendons and flexing muscles.

“We’ve only met like this once before.” She muttered softly, watching as he intentionally tensed his arms. _Oh be still my heart._ He chuckled, wiping his hands of the ink and that reminded her of her prior urgency. “Varric! I need paper, and a quill!” She made to walk past him.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re going back to bed.” Varric stepped to her, blocking her way to the main room where he kept his books and ink.

“What? No, I have this idea-”

“ _Selena,_ you haven’t slept in days. Whatever idea you have, can wait until you’ve rested. So it’s back to bed with you or so help me Andraste, even if I have to find _some_ way to keep you occupied in there.” Varric dipped his chin down and stared her down.

Her mouth ran dry. “H-how would you...keep me occupied?” She fumbled, cheeks reddening.

“I’m sure we can find something to do.” Varric stepped forward and she stepped back in response, not out of fear but a playfulness. He ushered her back to bed, where she turned and climbed on. His tunic rode up her hips showing off her smalls allowing her to wiggle her hips enticingly, looking over her shoulder with her hair wild and curled.

The look on his face was worth it, so she took it another step forward. She turned to lay on her back and bent one knee, trailing her hand up and cupping her breasts through his tunic that draped over her, exposing most of her chest.

“Selena…” Varric warned but he climbed on to the bed after her anyway, hovering. She moaned, head tossed back as he pressed her down and ghosted his lips over her neck. “You should really go back to sleep.”

“Then tire me out.”

His sharp intake of breath had her grinning, her legs spread wider as he fit so perfectly there. The hard brush of his trousers against her inner thighs had her squirming and she could swear she felt a bulge. As she rubbed, his breath quickened. _Yes._ She pivoted her hips against him and flipped them to be on top, but he chuckled and flipped them back over

“Sleep.” He pressed a regrettably chaste kiss on her jaw, his warmth disappearing.

“Ugh! No!” Rolling to her stomach, she watched Varric retreat. “I’ll sleep if you give me something to draw with and paper.”

“If I give you that, then you won’t sleep.” He went to close the door.

She couldn’t deny that. “I’m hungry!” She tried and pouted.

“Hungry for what?” The heat in his eyes had her flushing, her face pressed to the bed to hide her red face and the moan.

“You’re such a tease.” She grumbled.

“Me? A tease… I have no idea what you’re saying, _Madame._ ”

“TEASE!” She shouted as he closed the door, that maker damned smirk in place causing her to warm up under her collar.

Lena waited a few beats before looking around for her clothes, intent on getting up and sneaking out. She had an idea itching at the back of her mind and she wanted to write it down while the idea was fresh. But her clothes were not found, not even in his chests.

Affronted, she just pulled on one of his pants, which fit too tightly around her rump. It was to be expected as she was certainly curvier than Varric. There were no shoes so she opened the door and stumbled upon seeing Varric tinkering with _the crossbow_ amidst a slew of papers.  His exposed forearms gleaming with sweat and oil as he tightened something, tense hard muscles as he handled _Bianca the crossbow_ like they were old pals.

A small glass bottle of dark lubricating oil was beside him that he used to oil the gears and parts as he put them in place.

He looked up at her and tutted. “Less than a quarter to bells. You didn’t even _try_ to sleep did you?” He asked as he popped some mechanism out of _Bianca_ that she couldn’t name. She was not a mechanical sort but the piece was circular as he cleaned it and put it back in place.

“Well I…” She tried to say as she watched him wipe his hands, cock the crossbow and held it up and- a bolt went flying at the dummy he had set up.  Varric’s resulting smirk was proud and caused her heart to physically throb. She had to swallow hastily as the sight of a near shirtless Varric handling _his weapon_.

“What do you think?” he showed off the crossbow, turning to her.

“Beautiful.”  She muttered but she didn’t look at the weapon, Varric could see that as he caught her gaze. One of his brows rose curious and that self satisfied smug mug of his had her flushing.

“Lena meet Selena.” Varric touted the weapon up but lena was sputtering, face inflamed and mouth opened in shock and horror.

“Ah what no… _what_ …” Lena gripped the back of a chair. “Nooo you can’t. Hmm no. No.  Absolutely not.  You are not naming the crossbow after me.” She fumbled for more words.

“What else would I name it?”

“Bianca.”

“Why would I name it after the one who crafted it? Do you realize how-”

“-dangerous a repeating crossbow is?”

“Exactly, already the Carta have been after it.”

“Right, and you think the best idea… would be to name it after me?”

“Of course! If I named it after Bianca they’d go for her.”

“Yes. Bianca… who is a skilled smith and archer.” Varric paused. “Bianca, who has killed how many people? _Bianca,_ who can handle herself far better than me in a fight.  Varric, for Andraste’s sake I only just killed for the first time and I have stabbed myself in the foot with a _steak knife_.” She flinched at the admission.

“Lena, it’s dangerous for them to get a hold of this information.”

“Right and are you going to protect me if they come after me?”

His pause was telling.

“They’ll think I’m someone _precious_ to you? Are you going to be there every moment, or one of your spy network will be there to make sure they don’t try and use me to lure _you_ out?” Lena pressed against his chest, undistracted by the mane of chest hair due to her anger.   “Believe me,  I know how dangerous it is.  But do you think whoever might come for it, would even _think_ you’re stupid enough to name it after the one who crafted? And if they did at least she’d be able to defend herself!” her throat growled and teeth bared. “I already know what _my_ weaknesses are.  Do you?”  She spat and turned around intent on climbing back into his bed, angry but she tossed one more line back  “Besides, aren’t you two together? It’d make sense for you to name it after your lady love.”

Varric grabbed a hold of her arm to stop her. “She isn’t my lady love-”

Hope rose and Lena had to quell and squash it down. Lips quirked into a smirk, she squinted back at him. “Oh? Sure smelled like it.”  

“Lena it’s not what you think-”

“What? You’re fucking her.”

“Lena-”

“You’ve got a _thing_ for her.” Lena sped through and waved her hand to dismiss it. “I knew you were too good looking to be unattached and Bianca certainly is a capable woman.”

“Selena!” Varric barked, getting her to stop but she looked away nervous to meet him in the eyes. There were a few breaths of silence, her’s was a little heavier as she touched her neck, feeling her rapid heart rate.

“I should-”

There was a knock on the door and Norah came in, freezing she looked from one dwarf to the other, holding a platter of food. Her brows rose, questioning.  Lena had been just about to turn away when the smell of bacon had her eyeing the platter. She hadn’t actually been hungry, but when she looked to Varric, his gaze was imperceptible to her as emotion swirled across his face until he blinked and sent a grin at Norah and a pleading look to her.

“Norah, my favorite girl. What’d you bring us this time?” Varric sent a flirtatious grin her way and Norah, used to him smiled.

“Just a bit of everything, Varric.  Fresh bacon-”  

Lena tuned them out as she cleared the table of papers for Norah to put the food down. Pocketing a stick of charcoal, grabbing a few blank pages of paper, and sticking one strip of bacon in her mouth, she made her way back to the bed and closing the door before Varric could call her back.

He didn’t try, in fact he left her alone in his bedroom all afternoon while she worked. She put charcoal to paper as she drew what she could remember those few times she had to clean the cistern in her toilet. She drew and drew and crumpled paper when she tried to figure out how it’d work. And then she tried to remember how the pipes work, she new the curved shape prevented the smell from coming up but how curved? And how did the water have to dispense, what did the pressure have to be to force the water up?

Eventually she had a few basic designs for that, next up was the shower. She’d run out charcoal and she was still too mad at Varric to go out there so she curled up again under the blanket and dozed, thinking of the consequences of her actions or potentially the lack of them just because she knew the right person.

 

It was the middle of the night when she felt the bed dip and smelled him as he curl up around her. Lena was too easy to forgive him, especially as she rolled into him greedy for his embrace. This close in his bed, it felt like they were _lovers_ even though he clearly had someone else. While they had gotten close over the months they were _only_ friends, much to her bereavement.

“Hey-”

“Shut up.” She grumbled and pressed her lips to his cheek. “I appreciate the thought but I don’t want to be made a target.”

“I would have kept you safe with Bianca.” He muttered.

“Is that the crossbow or the lady?” She grinned.

“The crossbow.”

“Ha, knew you’d see the light.” Lena snarked.  They settled down for the night, the early morning not that far if Lena’s internal clock was to be trusted. She squirmed and settled against him, trying to press closer but he kept her at arm’s length. “ _Varric._ ”

“If you get any closer you’ll…”

“I’ll what?”

“...regret it.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

“Don’t test me.”

“...”

“I mean it.”

“But I’m _cold."_

“I’ll get you another blanke- Lena!”

“You're practically radiating heat.” She sighed and hiked his tunic up to slip her hands around his back, fingers cold. At some point she had kicked her trousers and smalls off while he had climbed in his night clothes.

“Lena.” he hissed more as a warning as her frigid cold fingers lay against his warm skin.

“Ugh, just let me-” She whined, sleep slowing her speech.  She dragged her hands down under his tunic but he caught them between his and pulled her hands forward to trap them between their chests.

“Lena… “ He murmured.

“I haven’t eaten. Tita said I need to eat meat and I haven’t been listening so now I’m cold and you’re so..so.... _hot_!”  She wriggled her hands free, much too easily for someone trying to stop her but she didn’t notice.  She slid them down to tuck under the waist of his trousers, his groan at the proximity of her hands as she scraped against his happy trail and belly.

“Selena…” he moaned, trying to pitch his hips away.

“Warm me up Varric…” She cooed, joking but he groaned, deep and rumbling in his chest. “What’s the matter - ah!” She yelped as she was pinned underneath him, eyes wide as her legs instinctively spread to accommodate him and he pressed closer. In particular he pressed something hard and long closer. His eyes glinting dangerous and dark in the room.

“I told you-” Varric tried but was cut off by a hungry kiss and fingers clasping him closer.  Lena’s legs locked on his waist, dragging him down. He hiked one of her legs up and ground against her.

“Fuck…why… damnit.” Lena rasped.

“I know.”  Varric grunted. Their tongues danced against each other. Too quickly they kissed, teeth bumping.  She giggled and Varric chuckled as he slowed their kiss but she pressed, hungry and impatient.

_More more._

“Too many-”

“Clothes.”  Varric agreed, whatever had stopped him before wasn’t stopping him now. He cupped her breast, soft and loose and then tight. His fingers deft and nimble, thick as they were they plucked her through the tunic. He rolled her buds until they pert into hardened nubs.  Her shoulders tensed as he dropped his head to suck them but he paused. “Lena?”  

“Y-yeah.” She breathed with a laugh, uncertain as she gazed down at him. _Stupid, just let him._ She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath and then groaned. “What about-”

“There isn’t anyone else.” He answered, reading her mind and at her relieved sigh he slipped the stolen tunic off her shoulder and took her breast into his mouth.

It was a writer’s tongue. Perfect, poignant and and well versed in the art of lovemaking. Each scribble of his was slow, languid, tasting and meant to tease the upcoming climax of the story. Each lick was a perfectly timed foreshadow, each roll of his tongue was sub arc and then when he bit, it was a plot twist, leaving her guessing and huffing. And this was just on her chest.

“That’s not fair.” She whined, fingers knotting in his hair.

“What’s not fair?” His teeth nibbled, sharp a moment and then soothing the next.  Shivers up her spine as he worked her over.

“Fwua y-your...huu,” Her voice hitched and she gasped when he gave a rougher bite and twisted his fingers to cause pain and then soothed the flesh right after.

“Oooh, Selena, make that sound again.” Varric’s voice was hoarse.

“Wha?” Lena gazed down and shook her head.  She was making sounds she didn’t know she could make. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, biting whenever he bit her.  The moans and gasps trapped behind her lips, but her body tensed as he took on her flesh.

“Why not?” He questioned but she only shook her head quicker.  He took it as a personal challenge to make her moan like that again, eyes narrowed as he traveled down her belly, licking and nipping, painting words across her. She tried to slow his descent by yanking his hair but it only urged him down faster.

“Wait- ah- Varric no-no…” She rasped, scared. He stopped then, looking at her. “I don’t-” frazzled and unsure she looked around searching for an escape.  

It wasn’t that she didn’t like oral sex it was more like she loved performing it.  Receiving it however… she’s never gained any pleasure from it before. She didn’t want to disappoint Varric.  Some men’s egos were bruised when she revealed they just weren’t all that great at eating women out. Not that she was doubting Varric’s ability but she was a terribly difficult woman to please, even when she was alone it took her awhile.

“You’re speechless.”

“No- I just.  Look I don’t want you to feel bad if you can’t-” She gestured wildly but he merely raised an amused brow.  “You know make me cum with your tongue and fingers.” She hurried out, covering her face.

“What makes you think I can’t?” Varric smirked.

“Oh Cosmos.” Her cheeks warmed and she had to look away.

“I plan on not stopping until you do.” The way he licked his lips had her feeling faint as the blood rushed to her face, ears and chest.

“Thats not… ugh.” She fanned herself.  “I hope you have a plan to how you’re going to..to-toooo.”  Her breath slowed and she shuddered as he lowered. “Go-go-good luuck gaah.”  Her words fell apart as he dipped down, keeping eye contact until he felt confident to focus primarily on the challenge and task on hand.

It was great! Not to insult Varric’s skill but she just wasn’t worked up enough. His tongue and teeth had been miraculous on her breast but they were far more sensitive. Her center however has always been this way and it took quite a while for her to get off, so she always simply enjoyed the journey, content on not always climaxing during.  She’d gotten fairly accomplished at faking it.

That didn’t mean she didn’t get _close_. Her teeth snapped over her lip, chewing and biting down, silencing her moans. After all Varric was good, very good.

But good just didn’t quite cut it.

“You weren’t kidding.”  Varric sat back on his legs, jaw moist and lips wet. His tongue licked his fingers clean and he hummed with appreciation at her taste. Lena’s flush spread to her chest, but she ignored the teasing grin.  

“I told you…” Lena huffed as she sat up rubbing her cheeks.  “Look you don’t have to make me cum. I like the act of sex itself, it’s fun and relieves a lot of stress. Besides I’m quite skilled with my tongue-” Varric pressed a kiss to her, silencing her.  

“I just have to get a little more creative.” Varric rose to the challenge, sliding to settle behind her.

“What are you-”

“Shh.”

“Varric, seriously you don’t need to feel obligated.”

“Who said anything about obligation.”

“Your damaged manly pride?”

“My pride is perfectly intact.”

“Yeah sure, and that’s why-what wait what are you- ha…”

“What was that?”

“Uh…that’s why- hu…”

“Like that?”

“Wha-y-yesssir.”

“You’ll love this, too.”

He dipped his head, brushing her hair aside and breathed into her ear. Sweet terrible and sensual deeds he’d do to her. His words and tone matched the way his fingers moved inside of her, pressing and exploring.

She whined, low and throaty as the tale he wove to her quiet and dark hooked her and then his fingers crooked and swirled.  Thumb pressing her hooded clit, her body twitched and arched wantonly.  She was sopping against his fingers, made worse as he ground his own length between her thighs. His leaking head made it slippery and easy to rock back and forth.

“Unh…” She huffed, stuffing a fist into her mouth.

“Let me know…”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Selena, I want you to cum on my tongue.” He whispered harsh and throaty.

“Ahmmmkay.”

His chuckles rumbled as he worked her over. It was easier, not by much but he had her there, close, reaching and squirming.

“Selena.” He groaned between sweet swooning words, filthy fevered phrases and sensual sentences that painted a picture of rigorously rutting bodies in the deep of the night.  Forbidden and taboo their love was and complete with how irresistible they were.

“Varric!” Her croon answered his, breathy and calling. “Varric…”

“Yes?”

“Varric Varric...VarricVarricVarric!” She chanted like the priest of the Chantry.  She sung his name breathy and low, praying to his tongue.  The edges of her vision lighting. A feat she rarely was able to achieve on her own and yet her storyteller managed to do it, twisting and tortuous were his fingers and tongue. “Varric!” She cried, anguished as he pulled away, only for him to dive between her legs and continue. “Ah! Ohohohooooh.”

Tight swelling and warm, her legs quivered, belly arched up and she cupped her breasts for more sensation to help him along.

“Tethras!”

Her body stiffened, mouth snapped shut and her vision unclouded.

“No-shit fuck. No!” Varric swore between her legs. The act of Varric being debased to cursing, to saying _fuck_ was almost alluring if not for the utter aggravation between them both at the visitor. He looked behind him. “Selena.” He turned back to her as she let out a groan. Both frustrated with the timing, especially as the voice called again and they both stared at each other.

“Looks like you have a lady caller.”

The door to the bedroom was knocked on and Varric hastily dressed.

 _Right, nothing between you and Bianca._ Selena sighed and rolled off to also dress, but his body crowded against hers.

“Stay. I will be right back.” He didn’t give her a moment to refute him and that sent an annoyed tick through her.

 _Noone puts Baby in a corner._ Glowering at the snapping shut bedroom door, she threw her clothes on and left her hair mussed. Lena meant to step out just to show Varric had been with her when she passed her bundle of papers she’d been working on before she fell asleep.

Ever the opportunist, she burst through the door with the stack in hand and eyed Bianca who looked ready to pounce onto Varric whose chin was still _damp_ with Selena’s juices.

“Messere Davri. Just the woman I wanted to talk to.” She gave a slow grin, much to Varric’s barely concealed horror as she strutted out like the cat that got the canary. “I was wondering if you might consider a business proposition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very disappointed in myself. Only 4200-ish words for this chapter. I'm a FAILURE. -sobs- 
> 
> Let me know what you think though.


	14. Appropriate Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where in party the second addresses party the first's plans on how to reformat Kirkwall's sewage management; Party the First and Party the Third become physically engaged in strenuous activities.

Once his horror fled, Varric cracked a grin at Lena’s strutting saunter as she approached Bianca, if only to appear nonchalant. Lena was onto his game, but she wasn’t going to call him out. Not yet anyway, instead she stopped right in front of them both and held up her papers.

Bianca didn’t look at the papers, instead her gaze raked over Lena’s appearance. She took in her disheveled hair, plump and red lips, bruised from kissing and the smattering of purple and red welts that Varric had left behind in which Lena was oblivious to their existence. Her gaze narrowed, a spark of jealousy as she shifted just a midge closer to Varric. Lena caught it and her grin turned wicked, her back teeth grinding. _Stay away from him._

“Business proposition?” She asked, incredulous.

“Yup.” Lena popped while rocking on her heels.

Bianca crossed her arms. “What would a _whore_ know of business?”

Selena’s nerve twitched but rather than take the bait she leaned forward. “A whore would know plenty. Prostitution is the oldest occupation in history afterall.”

Bianca’s eyes squinted. “Oldest? Where are you getting your information, smithing is the oldest-”

Lena cut her off with a sharp laugh, smacking her knee with the forced and clearly fake laugh. She looked to Varric, who was thoroughly amused and hanging back and out of the conversation. “Sorry, smithing? Is this because you’re a smith?”

“As though you saying _whoring_ is the eldest isn't because you are one.”

They both glared and glowered, the air tense between them.

“Well, Lena, the dwarves have been smithing for a long time.” Varric offered up in Bianca’s defense and to try to defuse the situation. Lena sent him a withering look but rolled her shoulders.

“I'll give you that. Dwarves have indeed been smithing a long time,” She conceded but held her finger up once Bianca showed signs of victory. “But smiths can never claim to be the oldest profession. Not even farmers can make that claim. Well perhaps _gatherers_ but that’s something else.” Lena waved her hand. “Prostitution is the oldest because _women_ have been doing it as old as time. Even before recorded history.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Varric knew where she was going, if Lena had to guess by the grin spreading across his lips.

“What do you think marriage is?” Lena gave a smug grin. Varric gave a bark of laughter. Bianca tried very hard to suppress the smile and laugh that overcame her, trying to cover it up but the harder she tried, the more her shoulders shook. “Business is the practice of bartering goods and/or services for goods and/or services. Though more recently payment is exchanged for such goods and services. Coin is just a representation of possible goods to be traded. And women, especially prostitutes, have the _best_ business sense. We barter with our own goods, aka our bodies, to service our customers in ways their wives and any old Jane Goody wouldn’t.” Lena puffed her chest with pride.

Varric snuck away to jot something down in his ever present leather bound journal and stick of charcoal, a smirk and chuckle trailing after him as he sat at his table.

“Alright, I’ll give you that. But short of your specific brand of occupational history, what _other_ business would you have any expertise in?” Bianca snarked.

“Well, the business I want to get into isn’t all that different from what I currently do. It is afterall dealing with the service of the same orifices.” Lena drawled with another smirk.

“ _What?_ ” Both Varric and Bianca asked, the former looking up from his writing.

Lena held the papers up again and shook them, trying to entice both of their curiosity. “It’s a design for a receptacle to dispose of _certain_ excretions without the use of chamber pots and allowing one to sit when they do so.” Lena held Bianca’s gaze as she considered her words.

Varric lost it. His laughter boomed as he cackled and laughed hard until he was wheezing, red faced. “Oh andraste’s tits, it’s _shit._ ” He snorted and scribbled faster into his journal once he regained control of his breathe.

Bianca and Lena stared at him. “What?” They both ignored him and turned to each other.

With a long suffering sigh and roll of her eyes at Varric, Bianca eyed Lena. “I’m listening.”

“Have a seat.” Lena beamed, moving to the head of the table. She prodded Varric’s hip to get him out of the seat, to his continued amusement.  Instead of letting her bully him out of his chair he pulled her onto his lap. She squawked but sat in his lap and directed her attention to Bianca who openly stared at them both before they began their discourse.

* * *

 

Selena River and Bianca Davri stared each other down across the table. The sheaf of papers Lena had worked on the prior day spread between them. There were empty ink bottles and various quills around, notations and redesigns. It was noon. They had been at this all night, never leaving the table despite the disgruntled complaints of the Storyteller who had abandoned his post once the two of them had dismissed him.

 _"Be silent Varric, the women are talking business."_ Bianca brushed him off when he had tried to offer some help, much to Lena’s amusement.

“ _Just sit there and look pretty._ ” Lena added, to Varric’s annoyance and Bianca’s delight. A certain comradery flowed between the two women, if only brief at Varric’s expense. Once they took over his sitting room for their discussions, Varric had taken a book and left to retrieve breakfast and then lunch and now was banished downstairs until they were finished.

“You do realize what you’re suggesting?”

“A total and complete rework of how the nobility disposes of their shit?”

“You’re going to get rid of dozens of jobs with this idea.”

“And create hundreds more in production and prolonged maintenance.”

“That’s even if it catches on.”

“This is the nobility we’re talking about. Any sort of luxury they would take to.”

“I will admit that but this just seems superfluous. The Nightmen will hate you for it.”

“The Nightmen will likely be the ones I hire for this first. They’ll be less bothered by the presence of shit.”

Bianca paused, her brown eyes squinting as she weighed Lena’s words. Then she nodded. “Okay I’ll give you that. You’ve thought at least that through.”

“Well no, I’m actually just going with the flow of what you give me.” Selena presented the largest shit-eating grin as Bianca’s eye twitched.

“Do you even have an investment for this?”

“I thought we’d start with a model first. How much would it cost to commission you to make it?”

Bianca sputtered. “Commission, I haven’t even agreed-”

“But you’re intrigued. I can see it.” Lena leaned forward. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be thinking of the logistics of how it’d be implemented.”

“Well yes, you said it’d need special piping in the walls-”

“That comes later. For now we need a working model. I can make the cistern, but the pipes… I don’t have the know how or wherefore to even get access to porcelain or that much copper.” Lena scribbled on the paper the amount of copper they’d need.

“Why copper? Lead is abundant and cheap. It’s scrap and pliable for pipes of this nature.” Bianca took the paper and wrote down the amount and price of lead.

“Haha… _no_. We’re not using lead. Especially if we’re to move onto the shower idea I had.”

“What’s wrong with lead?”

“Lead, when exposed to particularly poor quality water, will leach into the liquids. Getting lead in water is  _toxic_. Lead poisoning is terrible. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” Lena crossed out what Bianca wrote.

“I can always blast a protective coating on the pipes.”

“I don’t mean to sound dismissive but unless that coating is magical, can withstand the test of time, and acidic solutions-”

“Don’t patronize me, I know what acid can do to metals. I studied alchemical metallurgy.”

“Did you now? Did you also know that lead with good quality water, will be covered in a natural protective mineral coating. But the second that water turns bad, the acidic water will strip it and the lead. It will leech and maker forbid the water corrodes _through_ the pipe and it leeches into the ground. You end up with poisoned unusable dirt that potentially could lead into local water sources, such as groundwater or rivers.”

“Why don’t you just say you don’t think I can do it.” Bianca snapped, offended by Lena

“Oh for fuck’s sake I’m not patronizing you or second guessing your skill.” Lena snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. She took a breath. Insecurity in your craft was not something she wanted to have to deal with, so she decided to take a different approach. With a grin, she gave Bianca once over. “In fact out of all the dwarves I know of, I think you are one of two who could potentially make _proper_ and _safe_ use of Lead. And that is what I find so alluring about you.”

Bianca froze as her cheeks flushed, mouth hanging open as Lena smirked. “Who is the other dwarf?” Bianca ignored the last comment, to Lena’s amusement.

“She’s in Orzammar right now but I don’t think her studies are complete yet. She has a lot of potential and I don’t want to interfere.”

“Well...if you’re comparing her to me-”

“I’m not comparing you two, I just said you both would have the know how to do it, and you’re likely the _only_ people who have the ability to pull it off. I trust your skill above any half-wit human or elf smith, despite likely getting a better deal out of it from them.”

Bianca sputtered, teeth flashing. “You don’t think I’d give you a fair deal.” She was _trying_ to find something to hate Lena for.

“Well… what would be fair?”

Bianca’s gaze squinted again, finger tapping on the table.

“Forty-four percent.” She spouted after tilting her head.

“Forty-four percent for you?” At Bianca’s nod, Lena shook her head.

“Fine Thirty-three.”

“You’re selling yourself short. Why not fifty-fifty?”

“But you’d own the patent.”

“Doesn’t mean I did all the work! I provided the idea.”

“And the functions of the cistern!”

“But you’d be doing all the heavy lifting! And fifty-fifty is more than enough if I get to watch you flex your muscles.” Lena licked her lips as Bianca was rendered speechless again. “So fifty-fifty would be fair to start and as I have no sway with the nobility or know where to get most of the materials… how about sixty-forty?”

The silence was telling and Bianca didn’t respond back, merely narrowed her gaze again.

“Why are you flirting with me?”

“I can’t flirt with a pretty intelligent woman? Especially because you turn a lovely shade of pink when I do.”

Bianca grit her teeth and snatched the papers back and held them up but not fast enough to hide the darker blush across her cheeks that spread to the tips of her ears. Lena grinned, wolfish and teasing. _This was too easy._

“Fifty-five, forty-five.” Bianca wrote down a paragraph. “No more no less.” She slid the paper across to Lena, who read it over quick and signed next to Bianca’s name. “We’ll hammer out the details when I get the materials and make a more formal contract.”

“Agreed.”

They shook on it.

“Now that business is out of the way, how about some fun?” Lena leaned forward across the table, her shirt dropping down and revealing far too much cleavage than any Thedosian had seen outside of the bedroom. “I assume that's why you came to Varric’s in the middle of the night?”

“It’s none of your business.” Bianca snatched her copy of the designs and made to get up but Lena was quick and blocked the only exit with her body.

“It’s very much my business.”

“I didn’t know he had a lass already. As far as I’ve known Varric, he’s always been a-”

“Womanizer? Two timer? Cheat? Consummate liar?” Lena offered, ticking them off with her fingers.

The smith narrowed her gaze again and shifted uncomfortable. “This isn’t a discussion I’m having with you.”

“Why? Afraid it’ll get back to your betrothed?” Lena spat and stepped to Bianca. “What’s his name… Vasca?”

“How do you-”

“People talk, I hear things.” She shrugged.

“You sound like Varric.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot.” Lena stepped to Bianca again who stepped back. Her movements were fluid and she managed to get around the chair. She was more aware than Lena.  Lena had to remember that Bianca was a rogue, and a skilled one at that. Maybe not with charm, but her body spoke of stealth and subterfuge and she was able to get to the door with ease. “Wait-”

“I will contact you when the materials come in.” Bianca slipped out the door.

Lena dropped into the chair she had been planning to trap Bianca against and huffed. She needed a different tactic next time they talked.

* * *

 

Her fingers were raking through her knotted curls when Varric meandered back in. Lena felt good. She was working toward something that could potentially help Kirkwall be less disgusting and was getting some kind of luxury for herself in the process. She could only imagine the sweet release of finally getting to _shower_ after months. Baths were great but a shower is so much better. She already had ways to sell it to the nobility.

“Your own personal waterfall.” She mused, dipping her fingers into the basin of water Varric kept, wetting her fingers and working them through her hair. “Hmmm a heated waterfall during the winter and cool one during the summers, to wash the day away...needs more…” She trailed off as Varric’s fingers took over. Thick nimble fingers worked through her hair and scraped against her scalp as he undid most of her knots with practiced ease.

“River.”

“Hmm?” She hummed.

“What did you do to get Bianca to turn that shade of red?” The storyteller brushed her hair off her shoulders, exposing her neck to him. He dotted the expanse of flesh with small affectionate kisses and more nips.

“I didn't do anything... _yet_.” Lena responded, eyes narrowed as he gave a swirl of his tongue along her ear. He never initiated the kisses. It was always her. He was trying to butter her up!

It was working.

“Yet?”

“It's more of what I said.”

“I'll bite.” He sighed.

“Please do.” She grinned and faced him. “Bite me _all_ over.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“So you say…” She ran her hands up his chest and to his shoulders. On tiptoes she kissed him. Slow and leisurely, not at all the rushed clashing of lips and teeth it had been the night before. She nibbled on his bottom lip, and he let her dominate his mouth. When they pulled apart, his hands rested on her hips and her arms reached around his neck, they shared a long look.

“So, what did you say to her?”

“I flirted with her, that's all.”

“You-” he chuckled, unbelieving. “Just hours ago you accused me of being enamored with her.”

“Of which you are.” He opened his mouth. Lena pressed two fingers against his lips.

“Lena, I'm not-” he tried.

“ _Don't._ ” She hissed, pressing her finger into his chest. “Do not lie to me about this, Varric.” Varric muttered breathed, ready to defend himself but Lena cut him off. “You’re a really good liar, and liars can recognize that in each other.”

“Andraste's ass, woman-”

“Now I have to compete with Andraste’s ass?” She tried to make it lighthearted. She couldn't deal with this discussion, not if he was going to lie to her. And certainly not with emotions. She just couldn’t, she needed laughter, smiles, and hapless flirting. Perhaps more toe curling kisses that left them both breathless and wanting.

“There’d be no competition there. Your ass is better.” Varric’s smile put her at ease.

Good. Lighthearted. Nothing serious. It was much easier to deal with. Joke and smile and ignore the ugly important issues. Something heavy clogged her throat, she gulped and it dropped to her stomach. She rolled her neck and shrugged her shoulders while forcing another grin.

“Besides, I understand Bianca’s appeal. I mean she so easily flusters. It's quite adorable. I just want to _gobble_ and lick her right up.” She nibbled on Varric’s earlobe. His hands rested on her waist, gripping and sliding to grip her rear.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm. It's what I want to do with you, though.” 

“Shouldn’t I be doing the licking?” 

“Shouldn’t we both?” 

“Much as I’d like to-” He began, and she groaned as she rested her head against his chest.

“Cosmos, I swear we were so close last night and then-”

“ _We?_ ”

“Well… I was.”

His chest rumbled pleasant and low. Lena rubbed her face against his chest hair.

“I’d like to get back to that.”

“I sense a but.”

“You sense a but?”

“The ending to that sentence indicates there is a but with some reason you’re about to spout.”

“You’re right.” Varric pulled away.

“Knew it.” Lena sighed and chased after him, or more specifically his chest hair.

“But not until you pay for something first.” Varric pulled his chair out and turned. His gaze hard and unfriendly as he sat. It was the same chair she had tried to bully him out of.

“Pay?”

"You owe me."  
  
"I owe you?" Lena muttered and stiffened. Was her favour for the clean up too hefty of a cost?  
  
"You kicked me out of my own room.” His eyes twinkled as he suppressed a faint smirk, trying to remain serious and stern. “You didn't think you'd get away with that, did you?" While his expression almost broke, his voice didn’t. It was low and sinister, rumbling across the room to her with a gruff quality that tickled and tingled her spine pleasant. Her lower abdomen warmed. This was a side of Varric she had never seen.  
  
"I-"  
  
"Come here." He ordered sharp and impatient. Lena was briefly reminded of the proximity of his crossbow and the presence of daggers. She hadn't been scared of Varric since that first day she'd been alone with him. In this very room no less. While she knew there was a playful quality to his command, her arousal pooled with a bit of apprehension. Slowly she stepped to him and he watched her with darkening eyes. "Get on your knees." He said it with a straight face. The corner of his lip twitched as kept himself from laughing.

Selena’s brows rose and her mouth dropped open. Varric wanted to _play_. Selena gave a grin, meeting the darkening gaze of her storyteller as she lowered herself in front of him. This was new, she didn't think he'd even know about this kind of play.

Tethras sat up in the chair, staring at her, his hand slipped into her hair, caressing her scalp. She purred and then gasped when he gripped her hair and pulled her closer to his trousers.

"Shall I take you in my mouth?" Lena questioned just as he made to order something again. She poured as much innocence into her expression as she could.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Varric covered his mouth, watching her.

“I would.”

“Do it, but-” He sat back with a triumphant grin. “-you can’t use your hands.”

“I wonder… where you learned to do this. I never pegged you-”

“You’ll not be doing that to me.” He covered his mouth fully, but his eyes belied his amusement as her mouth dropped open.

 _Where_ had he learned about that?

“Well get on with it.” He tried to gruff, but the small chuckle broke the illusion. It almost felt as though he were teasing her interests.

Pursing her lips, she folded her arms behind her back and shuffled closer to nuzzle his crotch through his trousers. The chuckle died in his throat as he didn’t look away.

Lena eyed the laces on his pants, and undid them, pulling at the string until they loosened enough for her to nuzzle with her nose. The weight of his hand was still on her head, she groaned as she was pressed closer. The hardened bulge was thick and hot even through the fabric. Varric pulled her head back, his hand coming down to open his trousers, helping her along in silence.

When the layer of trousers were removed, she groaned. He hadn’t been wearing smalls the entire time. She had sat in his lap with only two layers of clothes. He’d been so close to her and now… now she got to feast and suck on him.

The magnificent appearance of his cock had her panting. It was thick, heavy and the wild bush presented him perfectly. His foreskin was pulled back, revealing the wet tipped head. His balls were heavy and were her first target.

Varric’s one hand still guided her and the other gripped the armrest. She chose where to lick first, her head tilting as she lapped at them, sucking and massaging with her tongue. Varric’s groans and the tensing of his thighs left her pleased and sopping wet. Her smalls had already been drenched before, but now they were absolutely soaked as the sounds he made. His grunts and pleased sighs were music to her ears. She wanted to please him, to make him cum.

Dragging her tongue up his length, she used her cheek and nose to nudge his cock into position before using her stretched lips to push his foreskin back, pulling him into her mouth slow and steady. She wasn’t impatient.

He hissed as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking him in. “Selena.” His moan was a sigh and his grip in her hair loosened, their gazes locked as she bobbed down, tongue swirling and massaging. She hummed the more she took of him, his length wasn’t overly impressive but it was enough. It was the girth that had her lips stretched around him, straining.

Her saliva pooled around her lips, dribbling as her head bobbed. It was quiet besides her slurping and their moans. Lena’s legs squirmed, pressing her thighs tight the second Varric groaned. She bottomed out, taking him fully in her mouth to tickle the back of her throat, her walls clenching around emptiness, craving touch and heat.

Well, Varric never said what she couldn’t use her hands for.

Watching to make sure he was preoccupied, her hands slipped into her trousers, working herself over as she sucked on him, moaning. She pulled off him to nuzzle his manhood, directing his attention to her tongue as she swirled and ran it along his cockslit. He was fixated on the way her mouth looked, wet and reddened with his engorged prick sliding into her mouth.

“Oh, Selena…” He heaved. “Don’t think I don’t know what your fingers are doing.”

She pulled up and off and grinned. “I can’t help it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, I can, but damn _Master_ Tethras. You’re _so_ hot.”

“What?”

“Ugh… I’ll explain later. Less talking-”

“More sucking.” He clenched her hair rough - too rough - and brought her mouth back down onto his length. She choked and cringed. “Fuck, sorry love.” He rubbed the back of her head, pads of his fingers soothing the pain. 

She growled, swatting his hands away and pulled up. “Let go of my hair."  She mumbled, shaking her head. "It was nice at first but... ow."

He let go, an apology ready but it dispersed when she resumed sucking him. Her tongue swirling against him had him forgetting what he was about to say. 

“Fuck, River...if this is what you do for your client.”

She sat back on her haunches. “Don’t bring up my job.” She huffed. “I may be a whore, but mixing business and pleasure is not my idea of a turn on.”

Again he went to apologize but Lena sighed, staring at the heavy balls begging for release before her.

“Ya know what, no I can’t.” It took every ounce of willpower to ignore her instinct and desire to simply climb ontop him and _ride the dwarf_ like she so wanted to. She tucked Varric back into his trousers.

“Lena, I’m sorry.”

“Varric.” She stared at him, really stared at him. “There are certain things you don’t bring up when you’re about to have sex with someone you care about. In this scenario, it’s my job.”

“But your job is sex.”

“My job is bringing pleasure to people,” She seethed. “And _acting_ like I’m enjoying it. I don’t actually enjoy it.”

“Then why do it?”

“Coin.”

“Maker’s sake, if it’s coin you need-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say what I think you’re going to say.”

“I can pay off your-”

“Fuck you. I don’t _need_ you to be my sugar daddy.”

“You’re what?”

“For fuck’s sake, Varric! I will _not_ take advantage of the fact you come from coin. You’re my friend first and friends don’t do that.”

“Friends help each other out.”

“That’s all well and good, if we were even remotely on the same social class.” Lena sighed. “Do you know how it’d look-”

“Who cares what it would look like?”

“I fucking care. You’re _Varric Tethras_. Merchant Prince. Your family has got more coin than I will ever dream of having.”

“Exactly, so paying off a measly twenty coin debt is nothing. You let me feed you and buy you gifts but you won’t let me do this?”

“There is a difference.”

“Bullshit.”

“There fucking is! Why are we even fighting about this. It’s not like it even matters anymore. My debt will be paid come next week.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Lena.” He warned.

She rolled her eyes. “Harlan has me doing an errand. I’m supposed to investigate something because th-the man I killed was….” She squirmed, the memory coming back. “His investigator… or his right hand?” Varric stilled at those words. It did not bode well.

“That was Baltier?”

“What?”

“Lena… you killed an _executioner_.” He muttered lowly.

“What?”

“Harlan’s right hand is- was not an investigator. He was sent after people Harlan wanted dead.” Varric muttered, his grip on her shoulders tight. “And you’re replacing him, oh fuck.”

“What?!”

“Lena, he’s going to have you kill. Are you prepared for that?”

Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t imagine the blood and flesh underneath her fingernails again, she just couldn’t. It made her sick to think she was capable of it to begin with but at least before it had been for her own self defense and defense of someone she cared about. “No! Oh… oh fuck. Varric...what do I do?”

“Nothing. I’ll take care of it.” 

“Varric-”

“No. Lena, this requires a little more tact and influence. Just…” He sighed. “Just stay here for the next few days while my contacts work.”

“Varric I can-”

“Take care of yourself, I know. Consider this you finally calling your favor in.”

“And here I thought I already did.” She didn’t like this. It felt too much like _relying_ on him.

“We can barter goods and services later.” He winked.

“You’re incorrigible.” She sighed. “An absolute scoundrel…”

“Well, I never, Madame.” He spoke in mock offense.

“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know what's fun? Writing arguments right after an almost sex scene. 
> 
> Also Varric, my buddy, my friend, mate... _shut up and let her suck you off_ you're ruining the mood. Stop talking!


	15. Adoration Fluctuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena is a tad hormonal, one moment she hates and the next she loves him.

Varric was leaving her at the Hanged Man with strict instructions to not leave his quarters. That was all well and good but what exactly would she do in the meantime? She said as much to him as he packed up _Bianca_ the crossbow. His response was to drop a single but exceptionally large tome on the table. “Read up on this.”

Curious, Lena sat and eyed the embossed title. Actual hardcover books was were rare on Thedas. While they had the printing press, it was expensive. The only books she’d ever seen were ledgers and the Chant of Light.

“A Brief Overview of Patent Practices, Regulations, and Applications. By Assorted Authors of the Dwarven Merchant’s Guild.” She gaped. “This is _brief?!_ ” She flipped open the book and despaired at the tiny _handwritten_ text. She didn’t have her glasses, there was no possible way Lena could read this without glasses.

“You do need to fill out the patent for your cistern.” Varric chuckled at her squinting and pulled out a small dark wooden box that he slid across to her. “The clerks at the guild will have to check to make sure Orzammar doesn’t have any of the sort. I think I’d have heard about such things on the surface but Orzammar, not sure.”

“What’s this?” She opened the box and froze.

“You squint terribly when you read, figured that might help.”

Lena raised the gold glasses. They were thin and appeared impossibly fragile but she held them up. “Glasses? You have glasses?”

“Glasses? No these are _spectacles_. They’re for your eyes,” He corrected her.

“Ugh glasses are another term for spectacles, it’s what we - er… what my parents called them.”

“Well I use them when I spend an inordinate amount of time writing, especially at night. Here.” He held out his hands and took them from her and slid them in place, perching them on her nose. “Can you read easier?”

She peered at him over the rim of them then directed her gaze to the book through the spectacles. She could definitely see the text better, but it was nothing compared to her actual glasses. “Yeah better. I actually have my own pair. They’re at the Rose though along with all my other possessions.”

He paused, a curious sort of look came upon his face. “You have your own pair?”

“Yes, but they’re well different, made specifically for me.” She grinned. _Look at them with your special eyes. My brand!_ With a stifled giggle, she pulled the glasses off and set them back in the box.

“I’ll have someone bring your belongings.”

“Varric.”

“Just want you to be comfortable while I’m away.”

“Oh yes, by all means treat me like your little _pet._ ” She snapped, still angry but if he could get her out of having to torture and kill someone, then she’d bite her tongue.

“Here I thought, you were the one keeping pets.” His chuckle had her flushing.

“You have got to tell me where you learned about this. Because I seriously need to correct your source on some... _things.”_ She sighed.

“I'll never tell.” He teased.

Scowling, she peered back at the book. “I’m going to need to take notes on this.”

“Already got you covered.” He slipped two leather bound books across to her with a small leather case with drawing charcoals and several quills.

“Woah… “ she looked up at him. “And just when did you have time to get these?”

“I’ve had them a while now.”

“That’s a lie.”

“They’re my spares.”

“That is also a lie.”

“How would you know?”

“Let's not play that game.” She grinned. If he was going to lie about such simple things, then she was not going to reveal how she knew when he was lying.

“You can order meals from Norah, she’ll put it on my tab.” He spoke.

“Uh-huh.” She flipped a page and groaned at some of the charts and timeline. History had never been her strong suit, especially as she examined the pages and noted the impossibly obfuscated way they described events that led to the formation of the Patent office. She groaned. This was homework. Varric had given her fucking homework. She got halfway through one page before she noticed Varric staring at her, expectantly. “Yes?”

“I'm about to head out.”

“And?”

“Well I’m going out to help you. Figured you might show me some gratitu-”

“Rethink how you want to phrase that, messere.” She squinted at him before sighing. “But thank you.” She grit her teeth. She was still thankful he was doing this for her, even if it went against all her core values.

“And...” He smiled.

“And?” Lena stared at him. He bent down and meant to steal a kiss from her quick, but she wouldn't let up. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding him bent down to her. He had to brace himself on her chair to keep from falling as her mouth kept his locked with hers for a minute longer. Her teeth raked against his tongue. His responding moan sent shivers down her spine. “Mhmmm.” She hummed as they pulled away, lips puffy and eyes dark.

“Don’t step out of the Hanged Man.”

“Uh huh.” She muttered then looked at him suspicious. “Wait why?”

“No reason.”

“Varric.” She warned but sighed when he wouldn't give a reason. "Fine."

“Just stick to the Hanged Man until I'm back."

Varric left after that, leaving her to her own devices. Her own devices being her reading the tome he left her. It was a long suffering slog through dates and practices. There were mentions of solving disputes when two people came up with the same idea and tried to patent it; or when someone tried to steal another patent idea. There were even laws about how long patents last, which was usually as long as the bloodline as each patent is - by default - tied to the family.

The way it was phrased was ambiguous. Ambiguous enough to allow for those who can prove a direct familial connection to the original patent creator, or if they married into the family they could then make claims. However it was dependent on how many degrees off from the original patent holder they were off. Others in the bloodline could make the same claim and collect royalties on those who used their inventions or made improvements.

It was all legal jargon. But if you knew how to phrase things… well, you can con people into paying you royalties for someone else’s work if the patent creator and holder hadn’t been careful. Of course this was all based off a brief overview of the regulations and patent laws, she’d need the actual text to be sure.

Lena had taken a lot of notes, in particular things she’d have to look up with further texts and laws. Maybe even ask a few people. It was just before supper when the door was knocked on. She opened it to the surprising sight of Denier with her bags.

“I thought he was joking.”

“So did I, but then he paid me a sovereign to make sure I got it to you today. Hurry on, take it. I’ve got to get back to the Rose." Denier dropped most of her things by the door, where she pilfered through it.

“Wait, what about-”

“The barrels are still there, though I did nick your soap. Fine quality if I do say so. Sold a few bars to the Seamstress.”

“You _sold_ my soap? Do you have any idea the effort I put to make those!” She grit her teeth and tossed her bags down.

“Didn’t say I kept the coin.”

“What?! Then where is it?”

“Gave it to Lusine.” He smiled. “Duh.”

Lena froze. “Why?”

“Are you that dense?”

“No. I just don’t trust people.” She mumbled but gave him no less a stare, expecting a response.

Denier rolled his eyes. “It was seven sovereigns for the whole batch. Five went to Lusine and I kept two for myself, figured you wanted to pay me back for your visit to Tita.” Denier grinned. "With interest.”

“One hundred percent interest?!” She huffed but shook her head. “You’re an arsehole.”

“But I was right?”

“Yeah yeah.” She paused and did some quick calculation. She was now only indebt four sovereigns. That was barely anything. She could make that easy with her next batch of soap, which… She eyed the glass jar that contained the fatty remains of Sister Petrice. “Thanks. I’d ask you to stay for supper but I know you’ve got to work.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever eaten in Varric’s room.”

“He’d probably disapprove.”

“That he would.” Denier left soon after and Lena ate supper, which was vegetable stew. She ate alone while continuing to read about patent laws well into the night with her glasses, while taking notes.

It was the sound of children screaming that had her waking up abruptly only to shiver while wrapping her arms around herself. The once warm room was impossibly cold, and she knew why. The high ceiling window was still open, unshuttered and was letting in flurries of snow that left a wet spot. The once roaring fire in the hearth was now dying embers.

Sniffling, Lena retrieved the blanket from the bed, even if it dragged behind her. The pile of papers and books on the table ignored as she dropped more logs into the hearth, feeding the embers until it spread to the logs and burst into flames. She hovered there, feeling the heat on her face. Her fingers stained black from ink.

She peeked back at the pile of papers she’d been writing on and eyed the splotchy mess of ink that her face had been resting on. “Great.” She grumped and meandered to Varric’s bed chamber and rummaged for the looking glass she’d once seen him use to help shave his jaw. Her fingers stilled as she saw her face.

It was _her_ face alright but wrong. The last time she’d seen her reflection she looked squished, pudgier, and rounder. Now though….now she looked more like how she remembered she was back home. She dabbed water where the black smudge of ink on her cheek was until it was clean.

Selena stared at her reflection, longer than she normally would have, deeper than she had thus far afforded herself. It still unnerved her, more so now because it was still _off,_ still wrong. She directed her gaze instead to her hair. It was curled, the streaks of white were receding and now growing out brown. She had Varric to thank for that. His near consistent offer of food and making sure she did go to the monthly dwarva meeting made sure she was able to get semi regular meals which meant more meat in her diet.

Smiling, she cleaned her teeth with a bit of a wipe with a cloth and a swish of wine that she spat out. It kept her teeth at least _looking_ decent. She could feel the gunk left over from not flossing. Her dentist would have a field day with her if she ever returned.

Once cleaned up, she tidied up the table and looked around. There was no sign of Varric’s return. He hadn’t said how long he’d take.

Not wanting to wallow, she dressed for the day and went down to get breakfast. She had her coin on her, seven sovereigns worth.

“Good morning Norah!” She greeted the waitress as she walked down just as the woman walked in, her face sour.

“Messere River.” She huffed while pulling the warm shawl closer as Corff tossed in logs into the fireplace. “I’ll be making Hanged Mash, if you’d like some.”

“Ooh, sounds lovely.” Lena called to her as she bustled her way to the door. “Want me to fetch some bread from Lenora's?”

“You’re such a dear.” Norah called back as Lena opened the door.

 _Don’t step out of the Hanged Man._ Varric words gave her pause but she shrugged them off as she stepped out. What harm could there be?

The chill made her sniffle and shiver again, but she darted out toward the Baker’s quick and fast. The snow was deep - for her - and she had to press through. Snow in Kirkwall was rare, or so she heard. She hadn’t been here long enough to test it but thus far this was the first snow of the season for her. It felt like winter’s last shaky breath before the upcoming spring.

The hexe that Lenora’s Bakery sat in was cleared of snow, much to Lena’s utter gratitude to the two guardsmen working with shovels to clear pathways and breaking ice. One of the guardsmen gave her pause. She knew him from somewhere.

The rest of the hexe was beginning to fill with stalls. It wasn’t a market day so local farmers wouldn’t be coming to peddle their goods in Hightown or Lowtown, but what was offered was the garden variety winter goods like furs, winter herbs, bark teas for the sick, garlic, turnips, and the odd sorts of trinkets. The only stalls selling items were items that kept during the winter or hunters coming in, or fishermen.

She passed by one of the stalls, the Trinkets Emporium, that peddled assorted baubles. Her eye caught a wooden bird amulet hanging from a leather cord with small amber gold gemstones for its eyes. As she passed it glowed causing her to double take.

“That’s a very pretty bird.” She pointed at the necklace and addressed the stall owner.

“That’s an enchanted necklace, an Amulet of Plumes.” The stall owner held it out to her.

Lena tilted her head as she examined it "What kind of bird is this? It looks like a…”

“Hawk.”

Lena snapped her head up. _A hawk?_ She smirked. Now she _had_ to buy it. “What kind of enchantment is Plumes? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Do I look like an enchanter?” The woman snapped and made to grab the amulet but Lena held her hand up.

“Wait, how much?”

Lena slipped into the bakery when it opened with a new necklace tucked into her shirt. The wooden hawk dangling between her breasts made her smirk every time she felt it’s weight.

She paused as the warmth of the bread ovens made her sweat. “Evanna!” She called to the attending girl who was kneading dough at a sluggish pace, her eyes drooping. There was already trays of hot ready bread but they would be baking for most of the morn. Most of Lowtown came to Lenora’s for bread. Lena had only been in here once, with Varric when she had smelled something sweet on their outings around Kirkwall. He’d bought her a cookie. She’d called them “Sten Cookies” and munched on them. It’d be three years before he’d get that joke.

With a purchased bundle of rolls, she headed back out. Lena once again eyed the guardsman as he helped a woman with her stall of furs.The guardsmen was a human, as most of them were. He was pale with brown hair and sideburns. So far, from what Lena had seen, he was generally very kind and generous with his time and help. Nibbling on a chunk of warm toasty bread, she watched him as he wiped his brow, his platemail looking frosted over with ice. She did not envy him having to wear that even in this cold.

She turned to head back to the Hanged man, when she almost bowled over a small person. She’s a dwarf yet this person was smaller than her. So no, not a small person, but a child.

“Woah.” She paused and eyed the child in front of her. Their skin grey hued and hair black and unevenly cut into choppy strands. They were thin, too thin for Lena’s liking. They wore no shoes and had very thin cloth clothes that had holes and patches that would hardly constitute as sewn on. Dirt caked on beneath broken and chewed nails and they had bandages wrapped around their fingers that she could see somewhat burnt skin.

“Soze, Messere.” The child squeaked and ducked past her with a small bundle of coins in their hands.

Lena tracked the child as they entered the bakery and came out with a half-burnt roll. The child seemed completely unfazed by the cold ground and walked through the snow and ice. Not that it was very cold in Kirkwall to begin with but, still.

“Hey kid.” She called to them and they froze, scared enough that the bread fell to the floor. Guilt twisted at Lena as the kid looked down at the bread and snatched it up to brush off the snow and dirt.

“Uh no. Kid…” She stepped to them and pulled out one of the rolls she’d just bought and handed it to the kid. “Throw that one out. Here’s a fresh one.” She held it to the kid who jerked back as though she was about to hit them, their eyes wide with fear.

“Du-Dun ‘ave mo co-coins.” They spoke with a stutter, childlike and soft. Lena grit her teeth. She didn’t like children but she wasn’t mean to them.

“It’s free. Give me that one.” She stole the burnt one and shoved the better bread into their hand. Lena didn’t like how grey the kid was, or how lanky and unruly they were with dirt and filth staining their pants

“Ank you, messere.” The kid stuttered and again shied away.

“Whats your name?” She questioned.

“‘Ni-nika.”

“Well get inside Nika, it's too cold to be out in the snow.” She frowned and looked at the kid’s bare feet. “Especially without shoes.”

The kid nodded and took that cue to hightail it away from her and toward the orphanage, where the other children were playing outside. Lena headed that way, noticing the other kids all had at least shoes on and hats, gloves, and scarves. Why was Nika without?

She stepped past the Hanged Man and toward the Orphanage. The children were not all bundled up. Besides Nika, there were three others that were left to the cold. One of which could not have been any older than two. She frowned. The other two, one was taller but delicate with sharp pointed ears peeking out from choppy hair and the other short and squat. An elf and a dwarf child. She frowned. What was an elf orphan doing here and not in the alienage? The dwarf one as well. Why hadn’t anyone in the Merchant’s district picked them up?

She didn't like it. So she made a sharp abrupt turn and stalked back toward the stall that guardsman had been helping set up and slapped one sovereign down. “I need children’s shoes, hats, and scarves. Four pairs.”

The guardsmen looked at her shocked, as did the stall owner. It was now, close up that Lena recognized the guardsmen.

“If you’ll wait Messere, I’ll see about helping Haliah get you those items.” He spoke, gentle and firm.

“What’s your name, guardsmen?” Lena questioned, squinting at him. She _knew_ him.

“Donnic Hendyr.” He introduced. “I’ve seen you around the Hanged Man, Messere."

“Madame Lena River.” She introduced herself and held a hand out. Donnic froze. “Shake my hand, Guardsmen. I don’t much like bowing.” She grinned. “Well met.” She tipped her head to the side when he did grab and shake her hand with a warm smile.

“Is there any reason in particular you want children’s shoes?” Donnic asked as the stall owner collected the items and gave her change for the sovereign.

“See those kids.” She pointed to the kids off to the side. “They aren’t properly clothed.”

Donnic frowned. “Yes. Unfortunately the Chantry only gives the Matron so much. How kind of you to provide them-”

“Sorry…only so much?” Lena glared at Donnic. “Those kids in particular, one is clearly an elf child, the other a dwarf and I don’t know why the grey one is singled out. But look at all the other kids. At least they have shoes, gloves and scarves. Why are they singled out and deprived?” She spoke slowly but Donnic didn’t seem to get it. _How dense._

“I don’t understand what you mean, messere.”

“Course not.” She grumbled and took her purchase and stomped to the Orphanage, banged- _knocked_ on the door. The Matron that came out was wearing Chantry initiate robes and it left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Can I help you Messere?” The woman sneered.

“Those kids.” She pointed at them. The grey skinned one had joined the others, and all four were looking at her peculiar and curious. “This is for them.” She shoved the clothes at the Orphanage Matron, and promptly left. Lena didn’t want to deal with Chantry folk anymore than she had to, not while the blood of one of them was still fresh in her mind and likely still lined underneath her nails.

She was almost to the Hanged Man but the Matron’s voice calling to children indoors instead of the ones outside had her snap her attention back as the woman handed the items to one of the older children who took it inside instead of handing it to the children who _clearly_ needed it now. Well, now that boiled her blood. Teeth grit tight, she looked to the four kids. They didn’t look like it bothered them or that it was anything different. The grey skinned one even was breaking apart the bread she had given them and feeding it to the other three.

“Just where did you get that?!” The Matron all but ignored Lena as she shouted over the screaming kids and the four children paused. “You… you stole it didn’t you.” The Matron rose her hand and brought it down on Nika, slapping the bread away. She went to do the same to the other children but Nika who stepped in front of the other kids, taking the blows with a tight-lipped expression.

Lena’s blood ran frigid cold as she met Nika’s gaze across the hexe. Her heart clenched as the Matron ended up hitting Nika in the face and then drug her by her pointed ear indoors.

Instead of yelling out, instead of telling off the Chantry Initiate, instead of getting involved Lena fled back to the Hanged Man and closed the door, shuddering as she dropped the bread for Norah on the counter. She only stuck around long enough to get her bowl of Hanged Mash and ale before she went back upstairs and buried herself once again in patent laws, trying to ignore the cries, screams, and taunting laughter of the children. She blocked out the yelling of the Orphanage Matron as well.

 _Not my business._ She told herself as she turned page after page of the book, making quick notes and references. _“You’re not a mother, you wouldn’t understand what it takes.”_ Her sister’s words mirrored her mother’s whenever she criticized their parenting methods. It still didn’t mean she didn’t see the error of their methods. Either way, it wasn’t her place. So she ignored the sounds, the cries, the yelling and eventually the silence as the children were ushered back inside, or so she hoped.

Rubbing her temples, she eyed her notes. She’d never studied American patent laws but some of this stuff sounded similar. Or maybe it was because she’d been pouring over them since last night.

Pushing the book away, she sat back. It was quiet as it reached lunch hour, the Chantry’s bells echoing over Kirkwall. She took this moment to to rummage through the bags Denier had dropped off. She had very few possessions from Earth left, including her now dead iPad, iPhone, some bras that no longer fit her, and notebooks, and an assortment of pens. She plucked one of the pens out. Truthfully she’d forgotten she had these and had gotten used to using quills and ink to write the few times she had to.

Holding up one ballpoint pen, she eyed the ink cartridge. She could use this instead of quills. No scratch that… she could _produce_ more of these. Setting aside two pens for Bianca to take a look at the next time they meet up, Lena dug around and pulled the few garments of clothes she had and froze when she felt something soft. Too soft. All her clothes were scratchy linens, hemps, and worn cotton but this was _velvet_ . She yanked it out and held it up and eyed a garment she _knew_ she didn’t have before.

It was a dress. The white undercoat cinched at the waist and flared out with its skirt. The bell sleeves were long and it had neckline was fairly low but it had ties to allow it to tighten, and no doubt make her bosom plump up to appeal men. Lena rolled her eyes. The velvet overcoat was dark juniper with fire-gold accents. It had ties and a hood along with deep pockets and just as wide, if not wider, bell sleeves.

She held it up and to her person, a folded parchment falling to the floor. Brows furrowed, she picked it up and glowered when she recognized the handwriting.

“Fucking Varric.” Lena grumbled, but her fingers trailed over the velvet and the skirts as she read the letter.

_Madame River,_

_I figured it would be best to give you this while I was away so you didn’t hit me. If you don’t like the green - which I know you do - I can buy you a hundred dresses for you. You’d kill me if I did so I know you’ll take this dress._

_I’d like to formally invite you to my brother’s engagement party. That’s Bartrand, you remember him. Obnoxious, lacking in tact, and traditional to a fault. I’m sure that rings a bell._

_Anyway, I’m required to attend and would adore you if you accompanied me._

_Master V. Tethras_

Rubbing her temples, she tossed the dress on the bed. “Son of a- No… no. Ugh!” She’d get back at him for this, so help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to write because I had to set up for future chapters and also I got a teensy bit distracted by a modern au of this story I posted up called "50 Strokes of Tethras." It's exactly as what you think it sounds like. Maker help me, I'm writing a 50 Shades of Grey parody. I won't link it because lord help me I'm deeply ashamed by it. 
> 
> Oh hey! If you guys haven't read it already, [Hero of War](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2528711/chapters/5620424) by Spellweaver has updated recently! And it is definitely worth a read. Her MCIT Elodie is fun to learn about.


	16. Wicked Nuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A variant game of Wicked Grace leads to some interesting fact exchange for Varric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to dedicate this chapter to my pals, [Spellweaver](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spellweaver), [LonelyAgain](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyAgain/pseuds/LonelyAgain) and [Bigbear1992](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bigbear1992) who all had a part in helping me with this fic.

Metal clinked against metal as he pulled his trousers back up, tying it off and slipping his shirt back on. The familiar belt looping around just as a pair of slender and feminine hands slid around to buckle it for him. Varric looked over his shoulder with a half grin. "Thanks, Rita.” He let her handle it as he slicked his disheveled hair back into his customary ponytail.

“Leaving so soon?” The woman directly behind him rested her head on her shoulder.

“I've got business to attend.”

“But we could have so much more fun.” The woman, a human, turned him to her. She was a pale pasty woman with dark brunette straight hair and amber eyes. She pouted up at Varric when he set her hands down. “We could try that thing you wanted, with the belts.”

Varric paused. When had he told her about that? _Right._ In the middle of their tryst he asked for the belt but he promptly forgot when her mouth swallowed him down. He took a breath. Now that he could think clearly, it was something he didn’t want to try with them. No, he wanted Lena to teach him what to do with the belts. Although he could guess just what by thinking about it, but the fun of him finding out exactly what she’d do with them had him excited again.

He glanced down long enough to adjust himself with a sigh. “Told you. I can't. I've got business, maybe next time.” He cupped her cheek and pressed a light kiss on the opposite side. “It was fun.”

“You're not going to give one to me?” The second woman that lay on the opposite side of the bed crawled toward Varric as he chuckled. Her breasts hanging in the open as the sheet that had been covering her came off. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

The two women once side by side were identical down to the shape and swell of their breasts, held tight against them with muscle. They were so much more different than Selena’s breasts which were soft, loose, and pliable. They were pillowy bosoms that he adored upon first seeing them wiggle when she shimmied. He’d been dreaming of sucking on her tits since that day at the Chantry. And then he had, getting a full frontal sight of her nipples. They were large and dark, tanned as though she bathed in the sun naked. He could still remember seeing her tan lines when she stripped out of her shirt drunkenly, his eyes catching sight of them briefly before he averted his gaze and pulled one of his nightshirts out for her to wear. The Sisters’ nipples were small, pink and pert. Nice but… not exactly what he wanted.

“You’re right, it wouldn’t.” He pressed a kiss to the second woman’s forehead and pulled his jacket on. Their hands lingered on his person, trying to get at the growing bulge in his pants, but he batted them away. “I shall take my leave, Sisters.” With a turn, he left the two somewhat disappointed in bed but grabbed his crossbow, his _Bianca_ and stepped out into Lowtown.

This had been his first stop once leaving the Hanged Man. He needed his wits about him and he’d been denied release twice and too soon. _Maker damn my mouth._ He’ll never forgive himself for that, but she didn't outright deny him so he still had a chance there. _More wooing._

The crossbow was still new and he wasn’t yet used to handling it with any sort of proficiency but it certainly gave people pause as he wielded it. For now though she was holstered at his back as he made his way through Lowtown.

He knew everyone in Lowtown, and likewise everyone knew him. Part of the perks of chasing after and around with smugglers and thieves when he was younger. Of course he stopped, _eventually_ , and made himself a name with his books. His network of people only expanded when his brother started in on making the Tethras fortune larger but that was when his brother wasn't so taken with business as he was now.

Don't get him wrong, he loved his older brother, about as much as you could love a rampaging bronto, but his brother had gotten a tad too obsessed with making money and raising the Tethras clan status and living in the lap of luxury.

Varric was much more content with their current situation where they had enough to live comfortably. It's the one reason he moved out and took up residence in the Hanged Man with his share of the family fortune. Although, he only just moved there permanently after his mother’s passing.

With an irresistible grin, he passed by the Copper Maidens, the Lowtown Brothel. Hightown had the Blooming Rose and Lowtown had theirs and if you had some rather unusual bedroom tastes, you could always visit the Seamstresses in Darktown. Varric tended to stay away from the Seamstresses. Sure he knew of them and their...wares but they were definitely not up his alley, if you caught his drift.

“Varric Tethras, as I live and breathe.” Came the deep and raspy voice of an elderly prostitute who leaned over the wooden railing of the Maidens.

“Madam Giselle, how do you fare?” Varric gleamed up at her as she pulled the pipe she was smoking out and grinned at his winning smile.

“Why don't you come up and find out?” She tossed her silver hair over her shoulder while pulling her robe down to tease. Varric chuckled. She always tried to win him over.

“Saucy. I'd love to Madam, but I've got a _friend_ to attend to.” He made his excuse and sniffed the air. “What _are_ you smoking there?”

“Lychen and sand nettle. Lovely aftertaste.” She held her pipe out and Varric took one cursory smell and then a puff before handing it back.

“I'll have to come by and pick some up.”

“Not from my supply, sadly.” She explained.

“Tita?”

“That old woman's encroaching on my business, but damn if she doesn't have good quality.” Giselle took another puff.

“Well no one wants to butt heads with her.”

“No. You best be off, you did say you had a _friend_ to attend to. Unless you've changed your mind?” The woman slipped a leg over the railing, to tempt him but he gave a throaty laugh as he walked away.

“Maybe next time.” He slipped into Darktown. Not that taking the most direct route to Hightown would be easier but he didn't want to be caught or let Harlan get wind of his wish to see him. The man was dangerous, almost as dangerous as Varric was with Bianca.

With a handkerchief to his nose he made his way through the maze of Darktown, stopping only when he caught sight of a new stall. Most were wary of the stall as the owner glowered at everyone. His appearance was unusual, as you never quite saw a man that distinguished or well fed in Darktown. His hair short cropped black hair and his glittering intense gold eyes flicked around at everyone who passed, looking for someone in particular. Now that wasn’t suspicious at all.

Varric ducked through the small crowd, hand on Bianca’s trigger, ready to pull her forward and shoot her if need be. Most understood the threat and stepped around him.

He passed by the Butcher’s, a fairly known section of Darktown for taking care of bodies _for a price_. The name was a lot more interesting than the trade. All they really did was sneak the bodies into Kirkwall’s public pyre. You’d think it’d be easy but the guards kept careful watch of who went in and out.

He climbed the winding and twisting staircase up that led to the Red Lantern district of Hightown and darted into the alley. It was still daylight so the man himself would be sleeping, or so says his sources.

Varric entered the Rose and stepled onto the main show floor nonchalantly. He spied Denier at his typical perch with Adriano.

“Well, look what the stone dragged in.” Denier smirked.

“The stone should be so lucky.” Varric quipped back as he joined both of them, waving down Quintus for a pint.

Adriano slid close, fluttering his lashes. “Come to finally give ole Adriano a try?”

Varric chuckled and looked him up and down.

“Haven't you heard, Master Tethras here has a lass come snatch his affections away.” Denier grinned. “Our very own Lena.”

“Ooh drat. Knew that little minx was up to something, disappearing off to Lowtown so often.” Adriano snapped his fingers. “Guess I'll never know what it will be like to run my fingers through that mane of yours.”

“Hey now. Doesn't mean I wouldn't be open to new horizons.” Varric smirked but snorted toward the end. The others chortled, knowing exactly how serious he actually was with the offer, which he wasn't. There was no shame in teasing. “Sadly, I'm a one woman man.” Varric smiled as the others rolled their eyes. 

“Tell me then, is little Lena as soft to the touch as she looks?” Adriano leered, with an appreciative look up as though remembering something fond.

Varric opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut with a grin. “I'm not one to gossip…”

“Bullshit.” Denier spat and slapped a deck of cards on the table. “You're the biggest gossip I know.”

“Want me to talk?” Varric sent a pointed look to the deck of cards. This was their way of exchanging information.

“We’re all just dying to know if the little cream puff is tasty too. Tell me you're treating our little moon goddess properly?” Came the deep pitched voice of Serendipity as she plopped herself at the table.

“Moon goddess?” Varric questioned, skeptical.

Serendipity, Adriano, and Denier exchanged glances with each other.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh ho. He doesn't know. My my we know something the little sneak doesn't.” Serendipity was ecstatic.

“Looks like we've got ourselves a fair bit of information everyone wants, boys.” Adriano grabbed the deck of cards and began shuffling expertly, then cut the deck. “You _are_ in, aren't you?” Adriano asked as he offered Varric to cut the deck with a smile.

“Wicked Nuts?”

“Aye.”

“I’m in.” Placing Bianca on his lap he cut the deck while sending Denier a meaningful wink and gestured up. Denier shook his head, subtle like and rolled his shoulders to hide the movement but it was all Varric needed to know Harlan wasn't in, _yet._

“Count me in too.” Serendipity lounged across Denier’s lap.

“Piss off, Dip.”

“You’re comfortable.”

“I'm not letting you cheat me again.”

“Oh pish. Here I thought we were on the same side.”

“When nugs fly will we ever be on the same side. Now off you get.” Denier grumbled as he plopped Serendipity into her own seat, his grip lingering on her thigh. His cheeks flushed when she flashed her bare thigh at him. Dip huffed and slapped Denier’s shoulder playfully.

Varric watched all of this out of the corner of his eye with curiosity. It certainly explained why Denier had never tried with Lena yet. She didn’t have the right parts.

Adriano dealt two cards to everyone. “Pay in is one fact we’ve learned about her, equal to one silver.”

“A _nut_ ,” came the snickering from all at the table. “Naturally.”

“Indeed. No one wins though, we start using coins, aye?” Dip pulled a small coin purse out.

“We could make it interesting-” Denier stroked his beard.

“After the first round, you twit.” Dip smacked his shoulder.

A parchment was pulled and ripped into quarters for the others. A quill was passed around as the “facts” were written down and tossed into the center.

“I’ve got the _nut_ about her bedroom preferences.”

“Ha. What makes you think I don't already know about that?” Varric gave a smug grin.

“Wouldn't have seen you leaving the Sisters’ if you had.” Adriano grinned, calling Varric’s bluff.

_Shit._

“As I happen to know her one patron is exceptionally hard to please and he's not once visited anyone else but her.” Adriano spoke. “Clearly she's doing _something_ we aren't. And not with _you_.” Adriano and Serendipity chortled while Denier shook his head.

Denier snorted into his cards. “I'll match that with her favorite meal.” The storyteller shot Denier a betrayed look. “What? You do want to woo her?”

“The Merchant Prince is in the business of wooing?” Serendipity gleefully leant forward. “Then I'll toss in her favorite dessert.”

“Now I know you're trying to rip me off. Wouldn't her favorite dessert constitute as part of her favorite meal?”

Serendipity held one finger up and then spoke softly and low. “It's not what her favorite dessert is but what she'd _do_ with said dessert.”

Adriano howled but Varric was for once at a loss and though he smirked, he was now infinitely more curious. While he knew these folks longer, they were _her_ fellow whores, if he was going to make up for his earlier folly then he'd best get on their good side. Though he hoped Denier wouldn’t hold out on him too much.

“Alright, I’ll match with a story she told me in confidence.” Denier wrote it down.

“A story?” Serendipity tried to see the parchment but Denier folded it and tossed it in. “What good would it do for Varric, or much less any of us?”

“Well, when you hear it, Varric will know what to do with it.” Denier smiled with fondness. “She’ll right appreciate it.”

“Hopefully she’ll appreciate it enough to take him to bed.” Dip grinned and elbowed Varric.

“She’s already done that of a sort,” he admitted and the others laughed at his expense. The cards were dealt and they played cracking jokes back and forth. Eventually Osric joined them as well, but he paid in with coin as he knew nothing much about Lena that he cared to share.

Round after round they played. Serendipity won the first hand, Denier tossed in another fact, to Varric’s relief. The pot doubled after each hand and when the round finished, Varric did not win, but Adriano did who oohed and aahed over the facts.

“So, is she soft?” Adriano asked privately.

“As soft as a feather but meaty and… _delicious_.” Varric described with a waggle of his own brows.

“Another round?” Dip asked as she shuffled the cards, letting Osric cut. Adriano was in, they continued to play with Varric winning the second round and the story Denier promised on paper as well as her favorite meal, though not her favorite dessert. The betting of facts turned to the betting of current movements in the under city with the exchanging of information as additional coin was passed around discreetly. Which noble was buying supplies from Harlan, which thieves were getting headway in certain territories. It was a grand scheme for the exchange of information. Though if anyone grew too close to their table, that’s when the joking about Lena came back into play.

All in all, a fair bit of work was done for Varric. Most nobles and mercenaries never expected the whores they paid to be a great leaking source of information. They revealed so much when their pants were down, and Varric exploited that indirectly.

It was the thump of a leg and drag that halted Varric a second, his gaze turning up to Denier who nodded as he flipped a card to reveal he had the highest pair, thus losing the pot to Dip who hoarded the pile to herself.

“Well I’m out. Can’t lose anymore bits to Dip. And… I have a client.” Adriano rose as he smoothed his hair back and flexed just as he sauntered away.

Varric eyed his meager winnings, picking up the few strips of paper. “So what’s this story?”

Denier who’d been collecting the cards to slot away, gave Varric a squinted look. “She was talking about things she missed from her home. It was the strangest things, windows that blew air so cold in the summer she needed several blankets to stay warm, and warmth during the summer. Lights that stayed on well into the night with no fire, and water that warmed instantly for baths.”

“Huh. Do me a favor, would you?” He slipped a few coins onto the table. “Take a visit to my room, deliver this-” Here he pulled a package from his jacket and handed it over to Denier. “With her belongings.”

“Moving her in with you?”

“Just temporarily.”

“She’s really got you smitten.” Denier tapped his chin.

“Not smitten, she’s just…” Varric wasn’t smitten but there was something Lena wasn’t saying. She said she was from Kal-Sharok but then she knew too much about Kirkwall in such a short amount of time, add that to how she _says_ she heard about Bianca the smith; something did not make sense. At least she was a great source of information and intelligent enough to know when she had something he wanted that was valuable. “Different.”

“She makes me think of my cousin.” Denier raised one brow with meaning. Varric knew all about Denier’s cousins, too well. “I’ll take her stuff to her, though. Maker knows she must be going stir crazy in that room of yours.”

Once Denier left, Varric made his slow advance up toward the top floor. He had a favor to ask of Harlan, hopefully he had enough to bargain with, or bluff his way through.

“Harlan…” He knocked on the still open door. The scarred man of the hour gave a grumbled gruff toward him.

“Tethras.” He grumbled and turned, gesturing to the couch in Lusine's room, where Lusine was still dressing after her and Harlan’s daily tussle, her fingers quickly applying heavy makeup to her throat where the bite marks lay. “Woman. Get out.”

“Fuck you.” Lusine snarled but picked up her things and walked out, giving Varric a kind smile.

“What do you want?” Harlan dropped himself into a seat.

“Aw, come now. Can’t a friendly dwarf come to visit and have a friendly chat?” Varric asked as he sat opposite him with a warm grin.

Harlan snorted. “If it was just a friendly chat, sure. But I know you, Tethras. Knew your father, and your mother. It’s _never_ just a friendly chat.”

“Fine then. Straight to the point.” Varric leveled Bianca with Harlan and cocked her, never once appearing anything but friendly. “This concerns Lena.”

Harlan smirked. “She must got your cock wrapped up real tight in that cunt of hers.”

Varric’s smile faltered and his finger itched toward the trigger but instead of puncturing Harlan with bolts, he chuckled and forced another smile. “In a sorts.” He waved his hand. “How much she still got left to pay?”

“Her debt’s about to be paid.”

“Nah. See I know she still owes you, because she’s _not_ becoming your new Baltier. Don’t think I don’t remember what he was like when you first recruited him and what he became as your right hand.”

Harlan leveled a glare at Varric and eyed the crossbow. “But she’d be so much more than Baltier ever was.” He scratched at his chin, cruel grin stretching wide. “You didn’t see what became of him. She’s practically an artiste with a blade, but she’s got to get real up close.” Harlan grabbed the crossbow and dragged Varric close. “And personal.”

“Something you don’t like doing-”

“Unless I have to.” Harlan’s crooked grin flashed. “Don’t make me have to, be a shame to make the little bitch cry. I hear she did a great helping of that already to you.”

The rogue narrowed his gaze. He never liked Harlan. Sure his editor happened to work for him, but even she was cutthroat in a way that unsettled even him. Who even kills someone over a semicolon? “Alright, what do _I_ have to do to get her out of this?”

“You?” Harlan barked and then stretched his jaw. “Find me Samson. Wretch stole my goods and coin. That’d take care of her original debt and then some.”

“Then some?”

“Gotta make an example of him. Wretch’s been in hiding something awful. Knows people.” Harlan tapped his chest with his forefinger.

“A templar… stole from _you?_ ”

“Aye.”

“So how did that become Lena’s debt?” Varric asked.

Harlan smirked and leant forward.”I think she already told me, _dwarf_. Don’t go fishing for information from me. I’m wise to you. Get me Samson, and I’ll consider letting her out.”

“All of that, just for a _consider_.” Varric scoffed and made to shoot him but Harlan held up a hand.

“Well, to definitely get her out of it...you could find me the little thief.” Harlan smirked. Varric’s back teeth were gritting as he displayed remarkable restraint in not killing him. “And I’ll even give you first bid to her contract.” Harlan offered, leering at Varric. “Been meaning to put her up to the bids. I hear she has some interesting skills, the Seamstresses would love her.”

He faltered, pausing fairly long when Harlan offered that. He knew of whores who had their contracts purchased up by the Seamstresses. Classy ladies but the women didn’t last long before they were popping out babies to get at the nobility and the information they pursued to manipulate them. or worse.

With a strained breath in, Varric holstered Bianca, and nodded.

“You’ve got three days.”

 

* * *

 

He swore, low and annoyed as he made his way back to Darktown. Harlan left a sour feeling on his skin just being in his presence. The first unfortunate soul to cross him got a right hook in their gut and a bolt through their kneecap. Three days to find a disgraced templar. Three days when likely, Harlan had been looking for him for months.

Was it even worth it?

Certainly Lena was an enigma, smart, beautiful, and entirely untraditional for most dwarva. How she managed to go this long without killing anyone was beyond him. For a while he thought her innocent until she opened her mouth, and likewise took him in her mouth. Not many dwarva women would do such a thing, especially so soon. Even whores charged extra for that and she didn’t.

He blamed his chest hair. She was magnetized to it and well that certainly boosted his ego.

 _Alright._ He’d be the first to admit perhaps it was the withheld sex that was intriguing him. Especially with the promise of what she could teach him. He remembered the way Vael had looked at her and then at him, well… there was certainly an interesting dynamic there.

Shaking his head, he continued on his trek. A disgraced Templar was likely hurting something awful for lyrium, and if he wasn’t getting it from the Coterie then he was getting it from the only other source in Kirkwall. _The Carta._

The Foundry is where the pitiful presence of the Carta on the surface was currently located in Kirkwall. It was a sunken warehouse on the outskirts of Darktown. The chokedamp was heavy and noxious there, you had to take a specific route to get there. Problem was that route was always being watched.

He didn’t make five steps on the path before he was stopped.

 

* * *

 

On the second day since Varric left, she spent the early morning “reflecting” on hers and Varric’s near orgasm experiences and then promptly decided she would give herself a bath. She felt filthy and wanted a private bath. The bucket and copper basin on the bedside table just wasn’t going to do it. So with a bucket she filled the large wooden basin Norah dug out for her with boiling water that she heated. She was able to get a nice steaming bath while the fatty remains of Sister Petrice boiled in a covered pot in the hearth.

Without her specially made soap, she resorted to using the bottle Varric had given her. The soap warmed upon touching her skin, the runes casting some sort of enchantment as she scrubbed at herself. It was divine and she nearly moaned as it dripped _places._ And there went her morning like that.

At noon, she ate and continued her study up until her fingers cramped. She wished she had her iPad to take notes on. Writing physically was exhausting on her fingers and joints. If only she could _charge_ her iPad.

“Huh…” Lena rolled her wrist. She looked at the bottle of soap, the runes glittering faintly.

She _could_ charge her phone. She just needed the right type of equipment!

Slipping her jacket on she rushed out of the room, only remembering a second later to take her daggers with her. Lena needed citrus fruit, she needed a lot of citrus fruit and some copper strips or wire and perhaps even some sugar. She knew where to get all this of course it would just cost her quite a bit. Good thing she had five sovereigns to spare.

“Norah where abouts could I get some rune crafting done?” She asked the waitress.

“Runecrafting, I'd imagine the Gallows would be your best bet.” Norah served an ale to a particularly talkative man mumbling about talking crows. He mimicked the sounds of cawing and slipped 30 copper to Norah soon as he saw the ale.

Lena shook her head. “Gallows.” Cringing, she sat. Did she really want to head into Templar territory?

“I'm sure you can ask Varric, see if he knows any?” Corff offered as he wiped down the wood countertop and tossed the refuse into the fire.

“Ehh.” Was she willing to wait?

No. Not really. She was an impatient person by nature and if there was a chance, she wanted to discover this on her own and as fast as possible. Plus she had some guides and books on her iPad. If she could get to them she could figure out what things happened in 9:27 that she could change to see what affect she had on the timeline and sequence of events.

She slipped out of the Hanged Man, once again ignoring Varric’s words to stay in. It was off to the Docks.

“Hangman is coming down from the Gallows, and I don’t have very long.” She smirked as she sang to herself. Hopefully, she could get a decent price on a Rune of Lightning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL Now there is this chapter. It was a long slog to write it. As my friends will note how often I complained about writing it. [Spellweaver](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spellweaver) actually beta'd this chapter and I really appreciate their help!


	17. Harrows in the Gallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The not so harrowing tale of Lena's trip to the Gallows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evil Cackle*

The Gallows was as intimidating as portrayed and referenced in game. The tall structure had slavery depicted on its walls, and though the bodies weren’t there, the hangman’s noose hung still for when the magisters would display the disobedient slaves. As Lena entered the air was thick with suppression and dread, a choking feeling that wasn’t completely different from the chokedamp of Darktown. But where Darktown made you lose your breath and watered your eyes, the Gallows made your heart clench and anxiety spike, heart rate increasing and you became a tad skittish as you realized how many sword wielding templars there were around you. Plus there was a pulsing, deep and rumbling hum. Lena dismissed it as the acoustics when paired with the crashing waves, but there was something else about it. Something unsettling, uncanny that she could not describe as she moved through the courtyard.

Lena tried to keep the Templars who kept watch over the docks and courtyard in her sights. They were silent sentinels who for the most part had no interaction with the mages milling about. The fact mages were even allowed to move about was surprising. She never recalled there being any mages allowed in the courtyard in the game, then again in the game Anders had been setting up the Underground and he was likely still in Kinloch Hold at this very second. Unless Karl had already been transferred to Kirkwall.

“You there.” Commanded one of the Templars. Lena gave a jump and watched him. “What is your business here?”

“Rune Shopping.” She tossed out quickly as the Templar and all their platemail came bounding to her with purposeful stride. The inflamed sword insignia a terrifying sight across their chest plate, but the intimidation was undone by the skirts rustling as he walked. Her lips twitched.

“Very well. Carry on.”

Lena shuffled away toward the stalls, nearly slamming into one of the Tranquil tending to it. Lena wasn’t the only shopper there. There were merchants who were trying to get other items from the Tranquil. Clothes, pottery, and even herbs and potions, all of which were at a bargain.

She found the rune crafting stall, stilling when the attendant’s branded forehead slammed the truth of the situation to her. Their face impassive, their movements calculated as they worked the lyrium into the small runes, it was entirely all wrong and inhuman.

“May I help you.” They stated. There was no inflection to denote the question and it threw Lena for a loop. The phrase was a question but there had been no lift at the end to alert her. She spend a second too long staring and then remembered they were Tranquil.

“Yes. I need runes of lightning, or… if possible electricity?” Isabela had called it electricity, or more specifically Anders’ trick with his fingers. She’d have smiled if she didn’t feel like the walls were closing in on her despite the clear view of the sky. The entire place felt oppressing.

“There are varying degrees of electricity runes. What purpose are they for.” The Tranquil once again stated and Lena leaned forward and had to remember it was a question.

“What purposes are there? I know they can be used on weapons, but… can runes be used on other things?”

“Runecrafting can be applied to any object to receive the desired effect.” The Tranquil spoke in that same monotonous tone.

“Any object?” Lena considered them, shifting as her mind went right into the gutter as she gave a perverted grin. “Okay… I need a rune of electricity that gives off a very faint… uh jolt over time but nothing too powerful as to stun.”She chose her words carefully so they would understand. “So that when you touch it it tingles instead of hurts.”

“I see.” The tranquil was writing it all down, slow and with steady script. She could just make it out on the stall.

“How long do runes work? Do they need to be recharged? Or… re-outfitted with more lyrium after a while?” She asked. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Runecrafting and enchantment, if studied could have some interesting applications.

“The lyrium only applies magic to the rune, allowing it to pull from the fade the desired effect.”

“How is an enchantment activated via the rune? Does it sense the intent or is that something that is applied with the enchantment?”

“Weapon and object enchantments sense intent first before the enchantment is activated.”

“So I have this dagger.” She pulled the dagger up in its sheath and displayed it. She spied a Templar shift out of the corner of her eye. Their hand gripping the pommel of their sword. _Curious._ “It has a fire enchantment. If I hold it but have no desire to use the fire enchantment will it burst into flames?”

“Forgive me. I was not clear. The intent to _use_ the object is what activates the enchantment not intent to use the specific enchantment.”

“Huh…” Lena frowned. “So you’re giving the object sentience by applying enchantments to it?”

“Sentience?”

“You know, self awareness? Able to distinguish it is a thing, or alive and what it can do. Especially if it knows what it’s for then if it only activates when it is being used.” She continued. “That would also mean if the object, now at least self aware, doesn’t particularly _like_ you then it could stop working. Huh. Then that begs the question of what sort of sentience they have, are they good? Do they have a moral compass when an enchanter breaths metaphorical life into them…” Lena trailed off as the Tranquil had froze, blinking at that line of thinking. “Sorry, I started to ramble.”

“No apology is necessary. I had not considered what you suggested. Hmm.” The Tranquil scribbled away at his parchment while thinking for a long time. Lena watched, as they even paused to look into the air with a determined look in his eye. She didn’t expect the Tranquil to be into this sort of research.

He was alarming at first to see and to speak to.  The neutral stare, the monotone voice, the lack of emotional inflection it was disturbing.  But it was the determination that just felt right in the sea of wrong he had become. It was a shadow of his humanity or perhaps the core? He was curious about the concept of Object Sentience in the same way babies learn about object permanence.  What effect does enchantments have on the real world after all?

Several minutes of her staring at him writing passed, she nearly forgot about where she was located, nearly forgot the presence of the templar not a few feet from her.  She did not however notice the mage walking behind her so when she felt their presence approaching her but not moving out of the way to refrain from bumping into her, she spun and moved out of the way and into their line of sight.  They were startled they let go of their handful of items, herbs, bottles and potions.

Glass shattered and liquids spilled, Lena stumbled away and stared at the mess on the floor and the mage in question froze. He was an older man, if the grey hair was any indication.  He had a full beard and looked tired and now equally terrified.

“Thekla!”  The voice of Templar boomed as they approached.  The mage, Thekla stooped to his knees to try and salvage the items.  

“It’s not all lost!”  He stammered as he tried to pick back up, hands shaking.

The Templar shook his head and watched the mess. “That’s a week’s worth time in the hole.”  

Thekla stilled. “No. I can _fix_ it. Watch.” He gritted out, hands glowing over the items.  The glass repaired itself quickly but not quickly enough for the Templar. They grasped Thekla’s shoulder and slammed him down on the ground. The air shifted and felt charged, thicker than it had been and then all together gone, empty. Lena barely felt like she could breath as other Templars came to grab the Mage, who slumped in their grasp and was carted off. She said nothing, did nothing, and pressed against the stall table as the whole matter finished.

“You!” The Templar barked.

For a second, Lena thought he was talking to her, and she wouldn’t have put it past him.  It was likely her fault the mage had dropped those items. Given her track record she had froze, afraid they would make her pay for it and she’d be saddled with another debt.  Thankfully, although with a bitter thankfulness, the Templar’s helmed head was looking elsewhere.

“Maddox, clean this up.”

Another Tranquil, one who had been working at the stall with metal equipment, not swords or daggers but buckles, pins, silverware, and nails.  He moved around the stall, his forehead branded brightly in the day, as he obediently complied without a single word.

“Apologies you had to see that, Messere Dwarf.” The templar then removed their helmet.

Messere _Dwarf?_ She blinked and realized he was talking to her as she was reminded of her shorter and stout stature.

The templar was older, though there were still streaks of brown in his hair. “I trust this hasn’t soured your experience here at the Gallows. The mages are not allowed to practice their magic in the courtyard.”

 _Not that what he did constitutes as magic._ She kept her mouth shut and shook her head.  “I’m fine. The mage didn’t bother me. I’m just waiting for uh…” She looked behind her where the Tranquil, now no longer bent over writing was setting out several runes separate from the others. His movements were quicker than they had been before almost wary. Twice his fingers slipped and the runes fell from his grasp before he picked them up and set them down. “Runes…” She tilted her head.

“I shall leave you to your purchasing then.” The templar nodded his head and walked away but remained within sight.

“These are the varying runes of electricity we have available. If none are what you desire I can craft more.” The Tranquil said, his voice no less monotone and no less unemotional.

The runes were not what she thought they’d be. She thought they’d be stone tablets chiseled with the rune inscriptions of old or perhaps stone tabs with the runes but what she got were small wooden tabbed charms that glowed faintly with blue lines of the inscription. The actual inscription she couldn’t understand but she knew what the blue glow meant. Lyrium.

 _These are runes?_ _These little things?_  She looked up at the tranquil and then back down at the small wooden tabs.

“How do they work?” She picked one up and turned it around.  The lyrium didn’t fall or drip out of the inscription.

“When you are enchanting an item, you place the rune face down on the item and heat it up.  The fire will burn hot and melt the lyrium to the object.” He explained. “It’s effect will be activated and be available for use due to the heat applied.”

Frowning she set the tab down. This wasn’t what she wanted was it? She’d have to work the rune into something to be her power source of it couldn't work singularly and separate. “How strong is the electricity on these?”

“There are three varying levels, though nothing quite as weak as what you described. I can create one, but it will take some time.”

 _Drat._ She sighed and then eyed the runes. “How much for the runes?”

“Runes are priced at the varying degrees of strength for each. These are 20 silvers, this row is 40 silvers, and the last is 1 sovereign.”

Lena blinked at him, long and hard. “And how much for the custom one?”

“As it is weaker in strength to produce the desired effect it will be 15 silvers.”

“Alright… I want the these two and the custom one. How long will it take?”

It would take roughly an hour. A whole hour for him to create one simple rune, test it and then recreate it. She’d have sat around and watched him make the rune, perhaps even learn a thing or two but instead he left the stall while another tranquil took over in selling.

She didn’t much like the idea of sitting in the Gallows for a whole hour.  It was hard to breath here. But by the time she’d make it to the Hanged Man, the blasted thing would be finished. So to take up her time she took a look at the other stalls and was thus rewarded for it.  She bought her fruits at a steal and even a small vial of sugar from some of the merchants trading with the tranquil.

There were stalls for clothes, fish, herbs, and potions, poultices, trinkets, baskets, strings, odds and ends and even bowls and utensils. They really made a lot of things here, or rather the Tranquil and mages did. There was even a stall for odd jarred insects, oils, and colored powders. When Lena asked the tranquil what it was for she said paints.

It was like a market day everyday here.

Clicking her tongue against her teeth she meandered back to the odds and ends stall, the one manned by the tranquil Maddox who was not watching but rather was bent over a small forge behind the stall.  She could hear crinkling and blowing and when she looked she saw him holding metal tongs gripping the glass pieces that had shattered, heating them until they were bright and hot and reworking them into some kind of shape.  

 _Glassblowing!_ She could have sworn Serault had a monopoly on that trade.

Maddox delicately wove the glass with the tools he had on hand, patient and still until the glass was reshaped into a bird, flapping in the wind. He set it down to cool.  They were both watching as the glass faded from the bright color to a semi-clear glass. Once it was done he turned to see her, stilling slightly and then ducking his head.

“Forgive me. I did not realize you were waiting. May I help you.” Maddox spoke like all the other tranquil had. It should have bothered her that she was getting used to it, mostly because she was watching much closer. The tremble in their hands, the darted glance toward where the Templars were and who was watching. Very suspicious.

“It’s alright.” She mumbled. “Just looking.”  And she was looking.  Specifically at the nails in the basket.  She prodded at the basket. “How much?”

“Two silvers for ten.”

Her brows rose but she handed over four silvers and took the cloth pouch he slotted them into.

“Do you happen to have copper wire ...er string? Copper string?”

He did, though it wasn’t as thin as she wanted it to be, or as what she was used to. It looked like the perfect type of material for a necklace string or band.  Sliding her purchases into her jacket pockets, her gaze caught the glass bird, cooled and glittering prettily.  It wasn’t the greatest she’d seen crafted from broken glass, as it was impure material by the bits of dirt but it was quite nice.

“And that?” She pointed to the glass bird.

Maddox stilled, frowning as he considered the bird.  He looked confused for a moment. “I was unaware I had made that. The templars will not be pleased it exists. It would be convenient for me if you took it.” He grabbed it, as it was cool to the touch and held it out to her. She stared at it and then up at him.

“Bit different from the paper birds?”

Maddox’s eyes widened and the bird dropped as his grip went slack and surprise and then confusion flickered behind his eyes but outwardly nothing could be seen.

Lena managed to catch the glass bird before it shattered. It wasn’t entirely cool but it was warm still and she examined it. She wasn’t completely sure why she mentioned paper birds but something about his name and the fact he had made a glass bird.

Maddox was still but he was composing himself. “Did Samson send you?” He was quiet, voice barely a whisper but it was still too monotonous.

Lena’s blood ran cold. _Samson_. Fingers gripping onto the glass bird, she nearly shattered it but she set it down and breathed.  Her gaze turned up to really look at Maddox. His short nearly shaved head, the strong jaw and emblazoned brand on his forehead. It was such a long time ago but the name and the bird. It clicked.

Maddox. Samson’s Maddox, the mage he had tried to help by delivering his letters to his lover. _Maddox_ , who would one day work for Corypheus. Maddox who would rather kill himself than betray his loyalty to Samson. Maddox, wrongfully made tranquil just for choosing to love and thus getting _Samson_ kicked out of the order.

She fucked up. _Again._ She said something she shouldn’t have said or known to someone who will likely be able to say it later.  Although who remembers some random person who managed to say something about your life before the rite of tranquility?

_Fuck._

“Uh…” Swallowing she shrugged her shoulders. “Not really, but…” _Wait._ Maddox might know where Samson was right now or where he might be.  She looked up at the tranquil who gazed at her waiting. “But I am looking for him. I have a supply… for his needs.”  The lie came too easy as she kept her voice low. “He wasn’t at the usual spot and I thought you might know where he is. He mentioned you once.” Lying was impossibly easy when you had so many facts available about the world, about the people.

He frowned.  For a second Lena was scared she might have pushed it too far but then he turned and picked up one of the nails in the basket and went to work at the forge, heating and  reworking the metal quick and efficient until it formed a shape like a butterfly. He dropped it in water and then held it out to her. “That is where he sleeps.” Was his simple even toned response before he sat back, and ignored her.

To the templars, their transaction was done. To Lena, it was so much more. She turned from the stall and picked up her runes, quickly rushing out of the Gallows quick as ever. She didn’t want to be there especially with two contraband items Maddox had given her.

* * *

 

“Fucking, thing.” She swore as the rune zapped her fingertip again while trying to wrap the copper wire around it. She had cleared Varric’s table of everything except the wooden cups filled with sugar water, the fruits pierced with the nails and copper string wrapped them. Lena was now trying to wrap the copper string around the small tiny wooden rune, the magic zapping her every time her _intent_ activated it.

“Fuck you.  I hate you, stop working when I don’t need you to work.” Her fingers were recovering from being numb from over exposure to electricity.  It felt like the one time she had shocked herself by plugging in her washer into an outlet that had a loose wire.  Her whole arm had been numb and her hair had become a frizzy poofy mess while she’d been tossed back into the underside of her stairs.  She _should_ have died because if the voltage hadn’t killed her, the amp would have. Luck had been on her side then and she had learned a valuable lesson when rushed to her doctor to get treated for minor electrical burns in the palm of her hand.  She still had that scar, though it had faded with time.

With the wire wrapped around the rune, each nail in her makeshift battery acid and then the other end of the copper string wrapped around the prongs of her charger and her cable unattached to her ipad.  She really hoped this worked.

“Please, cosmos, powers that be, the maker, god, whoever the fuck is listening or whatever.  Fuck I’ll take Bender if it’s him, let this work.” She stared at the cable and plugged it into her iPad and waited.

And waited.

Annnd waited.

 _Nothing._ Not even a blip.

“Fucking damnit.” She rested her head down on her arms. It’d been too much to hope for that something, anything would work. “Maybe Thedas is like Hogwarts?  Around magic, technology won’t work?” She rubbed her temples and glared at the rune. “Wait.” She touched the rune’s face and it didn’t shock her, eyes squinting. “You little shit.  Work… now!” She yelped as it shocked her and the first fruit it was attached it splattered as the current went through it.  She could smell burnt fruit and coughed, but a flash of light had her drawn to her iPad, where the symbol was lit up on the screen letting her know the power was low and it would have to charge before it faded and replaced it with a charging symbol.

“It worked. It _fucking_ worked.” Her mouth dropped open as she stared, watching the iPad charge intently, looking away only to look back at the rune and the makeshift fruit and sugar water batteries being the buffer.

* * *

 

Hours passed and she pulled the book open to read but barely got through another chapter as she waited. Her fingers tapped and legs shook with excitement. How long would this take? She had to make sure it actually charged. It was agonizing.  When the familiar home screen of her iPad lit up once it reached 5% battery life she jolted out of her seat and whooped, pumping her fist into the air and dancing in place before a knock on the door had her pause.

“Messere Lena?” It was Norah.  Shit. She pulled a few papers over her device and shut the screen off.  She had locked the door so when she opened it, she gawked seeing Norah with a plate of food.

“Oh. Oh!” Had five hours passed already?   _Five hours_ just to charge to 5% battery. This was going to take a long time. “Right, I missed supper.”

“Varric did tell us to make sure you at least ate.” Norah walked in, setting down the plate.

“Ah… thank you.”  

“Oh and, this is for you.” Norah held her hand out and Lena eyed the 50 coppers that were dropped into her hand.

“Uhh… Usually the customer pays the barmaids.”  Lena questioned.

“The little one came by but couldn’t find you earlier. She wanted to give this to you as repayment for her bread.”

“The little one?” _Oh!_ “Nika?”

“She’s such a sweet thing.” Norah smiled.

“Yeah.”  She mumbled, feeling guilt crash over her.

“Well best be off, I hear them getting rowdy.” Norah walked out of the room and closed the door.  Lena could hear her holler down at the men who were being rude to the other waitresses, but her attention was on the 50 coppers. Dropping it into her coin purse, she eyed the metal butterfly Maddox had made for her.

* * *

 

He wiped the blood that had splattered on Bianca’s lath, the metal shining once he was done. He Holstered her and walked the alley of Darktown, pulling bolts out of those who fell to Bianca’s fury. Some he had to pull a bit harder to retrieve the bolt.  He cleaned each one before setting them back into their set. Varric counted twelve bodies but he had shot twenty-five bolts.

“Where did they go?” He hummed to himself, whispering as he cracked a grin. There was a trail of blood, dripping and smearing across the floor and walls. “I wonder where…” He pulled Bianca back out and stepped around the corner shooting at the hunched figure. “Gotcha.”

He stepped to them and pulled the three bolts out and twirled it. “Not bad, Getting better with you with practice.”  He rubbed Bianca’s stock fondly.

He left the bodies where they lay and carried onto the next location to take out the Carta’s small town competition. There were many smugglers in the game but none quite so big as the Coterie’s own operation. But the Carta was trying to make headway.  To get the information he wanted from them he had to take out some of their rivals. He’d agreed only because it was quicker, easier, and he could always use the practice.

It was getting close to dark now and he had to get back to the Carta get the information and track Samson down. Get him, escort him _politely_ to Harlan and then work on finding the thief.  That’ll buy him some time.

Sticking to the shadows he turned onto the market lane in Darktown and stopped seeing only one stall opened and no one else. The stall owner was a human and hunched over the table but looked up at him with gold feline like eyes and a sharp toothed grin.

_Not suspicious at all._

“You look like a fellow who might have use for my wares.”

“Not interested.” Varric responded and made to keep going until the human got in his way. His cloak billowed as he walked.

“I insist.”

He cocked Bianca. “Not. Interested. Out of my way, _human._ ” He ignored the man who did move out of his way, brushing past him quick like. Varric disappeared to the Foundry leaving the stall owner behind.

The stall owner who merely shook his head as soon as Varric was out of his sight..  

“Dwarves are so stubborn.” His pupils dilated into thin slits and contracted before he went back to his stall and picked up the single book on the table, stroking the adorned cover and the words _Age of Dragons_ embossed in gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evil Cackling Intensifies* 
> 
> Several enchanted weapons in all three games have descriptions that suggest object sentience. I can't name them all but the ones that come to mind is "Spellweaver" from DAO and "Isana's Song" in DAI The Descent. So I took it and ran with it. That little electricity rune thus far does not like Lena.
> 
> Oh hey! If you guys haven't already, I suggest checking out [Bodysnatching is Bad](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8019346) by [chihiroos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chihiroos/pseuds/chihiroos) ! It's got a refreshing take on the common "body snatching" trope for MCITs.


	18. Morning Star Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danika does not like Madame Lena. A Cameo by the Red Jennies and finally Lena confronts Samson.

Danika turned away from the Hanged Man and darted back to the orphanage. Matron Tonya would be angry if she did not return in time to finish cooking supper. The last time it happened she had to cook supper and was not allowed to eat what she had cooked for the other children. Any leftovers had been thrown out to the stray cats. Nika already had gone without luncheon today, she wanted supper.

Her stomach growled as her feet carried her faster. It was easier now that the ice had melted off but it was almost sundown and the wind was fierce in the cauldron. The cauldron being Lowtown, carved out of the quarry by the slaves of old, or so Merry said. Merry got to read and hear all sorts of stories from the other elves in the alienage.

“Nika, hurry.” Came the whispered voice of Merry from the window. Her wide pink eyes peeking at her from the window. “She's setting the plates.”

Nika gulped and ran up the steps and into the orphanage, ducking into the kitchen by the alley entrance and pulled her apron on. She was larger than the other kids, stronger and smarter; but don’t let the others know that or else they would complain and she’d get five hot lashes again. Nika rubbed at her still bandaged fingers and sighed. They were already going to hurt from having to cook and be so close to heat.

She was in charge of cooking most meals, and in charge of watching the smaller ones. She usually put the older smaller ones like Merry and Rorrik to work with her smashing vegetables into paste for the babies and warming milk for them. Today though, she had left Merry in charge of the roast for the Sisters while she returned the money to the lady dwarf.

“D’arves can't be ladies. Only ‘umans.” Rorrik insisted when she had told them about her plan. He huffed as he clumsily smashed the cooked potatoes and turnips into a crust with his short and stubby fingers. He always made a mess but at least it kept him busy and out of the way of the other children. There was less chance for him to be picked on in here.

“She was nice, so that makes her a lady.” Nika stated with a nod of her head. It would have ended the conversation if the kitchen door hadn’t opened and in came some of the older kids not yet taken in for apprenticeships or off on their own making bits someway. They were older than her, taller too.

“That's not how it works _dirtblood_!” Ghery was an eleven year old and was taller and stronger than her, but she stood her ground.

“That's how it _should_ work.” Nika mumbled under her breath and tried to ignore him as he pushed her away from the stove.

“Dwarves can't be ladies!” Ghery pushed her further and she stumbled back, almost knocking one of the pots filled with boiling water down.

“How _ya_ know? Ya ne’er been Ozmar!” Rorrik squeaked as he stomped up and glared up. “‘oble d’arfs are ladies!”

“It’s Orzammar, idiot!” Ghery sneered, using his foot to push Rorrik down and away. Rorrik squealed and rolled, struggling to get up. He still had trouble walking ever since he was pushed- _fell_ down some stairs. Nika bristled and stepped up.

“Hey! Don’t you push him!” She seethed at Ghery. Nika grit her teeth. It wasn’t fair. Nika had just turned five years old but she was taller than the other five year olds and much more observant. When she was younger the Matron and Sisters worried about her sickly appearance what with her gray skin. Now that she was getting bigger they saw something she didn't. They called her “Ox Bastard” and “dirty blood.” It was okay, she’s the one that looked very different so they picked on her. But if it was just her she would be fine. It was when they picked on Merry and Rorrik too that she got angry. And she worried when Peli would get older they might pick on him too.

“Stop it!” Merry cried but she shrunk into a corner, scared as one of the older girls - Hespa - pulled at her hair and taunted her. Merry was _eight_ years old but Nika was still bigger than her. They both had pointed ears but Merry’s went straight up and Nika’s went back and down. Even though Merry was an elf, Nika liked her and considered her a sister. She tried to step in to intervene but Ghery elbowed her face and she went stumbling back while holding her bleeding nose.

“Oooh, who’s gon stop me?” Ghery laughed and pushed Nika back. She stumbled. The other boys and girls laughed as they began to make a mess of the kitchen.

“How about _me_?” Came a deep growling woman’s voice. Everyone in the kitchen turned toward the back entrance where a short and stout lady dwarf stood. Her hair was a wild curly mane that reached her chin. It was too short for her to tie it up but she could still tuck the loose strands behind her ears. Sharp eyes pinned the children in place as her lips stretched into a wicked grin.

Nika watched as Ghery and the others faltered. A few tried to turn on their innocent look, the same look they used to get free bread from Lenora’s and con travelers so they can pick their pockets. Nika’s seen it before.

“Oh don’t even try that smile on me, twerps.” The lady dwarf laughed, low and bitter as she stepped further into the room and dropped a cloth bundle.”You, Nika, right? I didn’t know if you were eating, so I brought you a treat.” The cloth opened and there was a few rolls of of bread stuffed with meat and carrots. “Sandwiches for you and your little friends.” She gruffed. “But I can see you’re the one that does the cooking here.”

“Y-ye-yes, Messere.” Nika stammered. She played with her hands and looked down.

“We’re her friends, messere.” Hespa tried to say and reach for a sandwich but the lady dwarf smacked her hand quick and sharp, it made a slapping sound in the air.

“Like fu-” the lady dwarf looked annoyed as she looked up at the ceiling. “After the display I saw, I know you’re lying. Get. Out. _Now._ ” She snapped to Ghery and Hespa and the other kids, while pulling a dagger from her belt and looking _scary._

Nika shivered when she saw the enchantment on the dagger. It was red hot. She knew what that would feel like. She looked at Ghery and Hespa who were so scared they didn’t move. The other kids backing up but there were too many to escape. She grabbed the first thing that she could reach, hefted up Rorrik and pulling him and Merry behind her got in the way, holding a hand and pushing Hespa and Ghery further behind her. Merry gripped her arm.

“No, Dani no…” Merry whispered, trying to get her to back down.

“Too dangerous.” Rorrik whispered.

“Yo-you n-need to l-leave.” She stammered out brandishing the ladle and glaring at the dwarf. She had thought she was nice. She’s _not_ nice. She was no lady. Her back straight, she swallowed as the woman dwarf halted her advance and eyed her back.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No-not me I care about.” Nika gulped her fear down, her body shaking and trembling. “But them.” She gestured with her head slow to the other children. They were her family. Mean but they were hers. They didn’t have mothers or fathers like the other kids in Lowtown but they had each other.

The dwarf stepped back, hand to her face as she covered her mouth. The dagger disappearing into her sheath. Nika didn’t stand down. She knew you didn’t need weapons to make people hurt.

“Go…” Nika whispered to Ghery and Hespa who did not need to be told twice. They hustled quick out of the kitchen, their feet hurrying. “You too Merry.” She pushed her and Rorrik out the door. She would have ran to get Matron Tonya but the fire was still on and things were cooking. And she still needed to finish that roast.

But the dwarf hadn’t left.

“Leave.” She whispered low. The dwarf looked at her questioning. Nika took a deep breath. “I said leave. I… I don’t need your help. Or your food. I can cook and I can work.” She managed to keep her courage but then the dwarf did something unexpected.

She laughed and slapped the table with an open palm. “Of that I have no doubt. You’re entirely capable for… how old are you, kid? Seven? Nine?”

“F-five. I’m five!” She bristled. Why won’t she _leave?!_ Nika did not turn her back to the dwarf. She didn’t like the way the dwarf was watching her, tilting her head and squinting her eyes. It was like the men at the docks when she went to work there and earn some extra bits for lunch but different. Either way it felt wrong.

“Holy- you’re five!”

“Yes, messere.” She snapped and glared.

“Well, thought you were older. You’re so tall for five but…”

Again Nika felt her gaze looking at her hands and arms that were thicker but looked scraggly. She gulped and tugged at her sleeves and hid her hands. The dwarf woman’s eyes went dark.

“I asked you to leave.” Nika stated clear and confident now.

“No. You didn’t. You _demanded_ I leave. You gave an order.”

“I-” Nika faltered. She had! That was bad. She wasn’t supposed to order adults to do anything. But she was being mean! It wasn’t fair. Face screwing up she went to ask this time, with an apology but the dwarf woman sat at the table and grabbed one of the sandwiches she had brought. “What are you doing?”

“Eating.”

“But… you brought those for me.”

“Well, seeing as how that roast is almost cooked. You’re about to eat.”

Nika didn’t want to correct her. The roast wasn’t for her or the kids. She stared at the sandwiches. She likely wasn’t going to get to eat because it’s going to take her too long to cook. She licked her lips and ignored the rumbling of her stomach. Turning back to the stove she busied herself with finishing up cooking. The stew for the kids and the stale bread leftovers from Lenora would be their meal. But the roast, potatoes and carrots were for Matron and the Sisters.

“I can hear your stomach rumbling.” The dwarf still hadn’t left as she turned the roast in the hearth, careful and arms flexing so it didn’t drop. “Hmph. Five years old and you’re a much better chef than I was at twenty.”

Trying to ignore her, she finished cooking while hearing her smack her lips as she ate. It was almost time the Matron and Sisters would come in to fetch the meal and she turned, anxious to the dwarf who was now standing at the door. Was she leaving? She hoped so. She had to remember to lock it next time.

“That kid was right by the way.”

“What?”

“I’m not a lady.” The adult grinned. “I’m a Madame. Madame Lena. I left three sandwiches for you and your friends. Do with them what you will.” Her foot stepped out and Nika went to rush to lock the door but she turned, making Nika stumbled back. “So quick to get rid of me? Heh. Here.” She placed two shiny silver coins on the table.”

“I-i can’t take that!” Nika sputtered.

“Why not?”

“I-” Angry at the dwarf she pushed them at her. “I didn’t earn it.”

The dwarf - Lena - watched her with that same gaze, but then smiled. “Tell me where I can find a place with butterflies like this.” She pulled a trinket from her pocket.

Faltering, she shuffled her feet and opened her mouth. She could hear the clicking heels of the Matron approaching the kitchen and blanched. She needed her gone! But if it was information she wanted. She could do that. She knew things! She grabbed the metal butterfly and frowned. “I-I don’t know.” It looks familiar but she couldn’t remember where she just knew of it in a drawing. “Oh!... Merry would know.” She shushed as more footsteps grew closer. “Leaaave I’ll get in trouble!” she pleaded and looked back at the doors.

“Fine. Have _Merry_ come give me the information tomorrow then.” Lena slipped the two silvers into her apron pockets and stepped out before Nika could force the coins back into her grasp. Panicking, she looked around and spied the sandwiches too. She stuffed them into her apron as well just as Matron Tonya and the Sisters came in. She gulped as the twin pale skinned women fixed their gaze on her and then at the meal that was half burnt.

“Wasteful wretch.” Matron Tonya seethed as she pulled the sharp stick from the corner and pointed at the table.

Nika lowered her eyes. She undid the bandages on her hands and held them out so the Matron could punish her.

* * *

 

From the shadows Lena watched Nika as the stick was lashed _ten_ times across her already wounded and burned hands but there were no tears from the little girl. She gripped the dagger at her waist, felt the heat of the enchantment activated.

Lena hates kids; she _really_ hates kids. Almost loathes them. They were loud, messy, unorganized little young things. They were too innocent, _the_ innocents. And if that weren't bad enough they made her feel _things_ . Things like care, affection, guilt, and annoyance all for small young people that would give her nothing in return. At least if they were her kids she could claim an unreasonable selfishness as creating a person in her image, which if you asked her was one way to screw up a kid’s life. She just wasn't meant to be responsible for little ones. It is one of the reasons she had sworn she'd never have kids. _Ever_.

Sure, kids were an essential part to life. They were the future and would carry on the legacy she and others like her would leave behind. Children were a part of nature. She just wished they were a part of nature elsewhere to her. Separate. Somewhere else so she wouldn't end up invested in them. _Far away_ from her so they never come to her for anything. Not here within her sights, clearly being troubled and abused.

It was _not_ her business. She told herself. Nika had _not_ asked for help. She could _not_ do anything for the child even if she wanted to. Turning away, she crept back to the Hanged Man.

What was she even supposed to do? If she confronted the Matron, it might make things worse for the girl. The only way to actually help Nika would be to get her out of there but based on how quickly the child stepped up to defend the others, even the ones who had picked on her, she wouldn’t leave them easily.

Lena could barely help herself much less some child. She was still in debt, beit to Harlan or Varric. She had no home, no steady source of income, and no stability. And she was going to go home.

Maybe? Soon? She hoped. _Black Emporium._ Her mission. She could not be sidetracked. If she did help those kids, what would happen to them when she went home? She'd not abandon them and leave them in a worse situation. So, better she leave them alone. Even if it was to the likes of Greolod the Kind over there.

Where were the Crows and House of Repose when you needed them?

Shaking her head, she slunk back up to Varric’s room and shut herself in. Her iPad showing the slideshow of images on the device. The faces of her niece and nephew staring back at her, taunting and guilting.

Glowering, she shut it off so it could charge without drawing battery. Lena _hated_ kids and that's why she didn’t sleep well that night.

* * *

 

“Merry, we gotta!” Nika urged her friend toward the Hanged Man who dragged her feet. She'd woken early that day specifically to get this over with. The sandwiches had filled her belly last night, the first time in so long. But the heavy taste of them made her nose wrinkle because she now owed that Madame a thank you.

“I don't wanna! She was mean.”

“But she paid us.”

“Noooo. She paid you!” Merry huffed, crossed her arms and pouted.

“Don't make me go alone! Besides you're the one who knows.” Nika dropped to her knees on the cold floor and pleaded up at the older girl.

“Ugh why do I even bother!” Merry tossed her hands up and stomped off.

“Because you're my sister!”

“You're too gray to be my sister!” Merry shot back.

Nika flinched and frowned but she shrugged it off.

“Maybe my cousin but still!” Merry pushed the door of the Hanged Man open, Nika trailing after her.

The Hanged Man was usually off limits but this early it was quiet with the drunks disappearing to bed finally. Nika and Merry pressed close as they darted around a table with a very talkative man talking about how combat is, whatever that was about.

“Where is she?”

“I- I don't know.” Nika whispered as they looked around the bar. The walls, like much of Lowtown, started off made of quarry stone but as the buildings crumbled they were replaced with wood the further up they went. The bar was not well lit and Nika had to squint and hold onto Merry’s shoulder so she didn't lose her. Merry and Rorrik always seemed to be able to navigate in the dark.

“Oh!”

“What is it- Oof.” Nika almost stumbled over Merry but the two managed to look at the corner table where their intended target sat with a bowl of porridge, eating it while reading a book so big, she wondered how you'd carry it.

Nika and Merry shied away when Madame Lena’s gaze pinned them in spot, staring at them.

“Trysha, can I have two more bowls of porridge and an apple each.” Lena called.

How could she eat that much?! Nika and Merry shuffled closer to her. The smell of the porridge after their way.

“Um Messere.” Merry squeaked.

“Cosmos _don't_ call me that.” Lena snapped and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It's Madame Lena. Madame will do. Or if you must, ma’am.”

“Ma’am. Um. You you gave me two silvers-”

“Yes. I did. Now sit. Eat porridge or else you'll look like rats to the drudgery that comes through those doors. You're just eating breakfast with your dear Aunty Lena.” She gestured to the table and slammed her book shut as Trysha the waitress plopped the bowls down with wooden spoons.

Nika and Merry wasted no time in sitting down, but they kept their distance. However the bowls of porridge made both of their stomachs grumble. All they'd had was bread. And the porridge had _apple_ slices in them too. Nika squirmed and shared a look with Merry.

“Thank you, ma’am.” They mumbled and slurped at the still hot porridge. They didn't know when was the last time they had warm much less _hot_ porridge. And with apples! Nika loved apples.

“This would go great with some cinnamon.” Lena muttered as she spooned the porridge and apples up. “And honey.”

Merry and Nika shared another look but said nothing. The porridge tasted fantastic. Nika wrinkled her nose but kept quiet. She’d already made the mistake of overstepping her manners last night.

“I assume you're Merry, then?” Madame pulled the same metal trinket Nika saw last night from her jacket and plonked it on the table. The little left in question stuffed her mouth full of porridge while nodding, all the while keeping her gaze down and away from Lena’s. “So, where can I find it?”

It took a few seconds of Merry swallowing her food, choking briefly. Lena pushed her ale toward the girl, who gratefully drank from it.

“Butterflies?” Merry turned a grin to Nika. “You can find them anywhere-”

“Don't be smartass.” Lena snapped, breath heavy.

“Messere what she means is there are butterflies everywhere, hidden.” Nika offered.

“Hidden?”

“Yeah! You gots’ta follow them.” Merry smiled. She took a deep breath and then recited the poem Nika and her knew. They'd never found the place but it was taught to the kids as they grew older and sat in on Chant Studies. “Should the weary wish to rest, they need only venture west, to seek butterflies for a nest, to find room and roof for any guest.” Merry recited from memory and accurately. She gave a grin toward Lena who fixed a long stare at her. The longer she didn’t react the more Merry shrunk in her seat until she felt like sliding out.

“It’s… what they taught us.” Nika whispered.

“Huh...so which butterflies do I follow?”

* * *

 

 

“Follow the butterflies. Bleh. Why couldn’t it have been follow the _spiders_ .” Lena muttered under her breath as she glared at the butterfly etchings on the side of _another_ Lowtown building. This one pointed toward the Docks. “I’d much rather it be spiders. Oh Ron, let me trade places with you.”

She’d been following the butterflies ever since the two girls had told her where one was located, which just so happened to be in the alienage by the tree in the middle. What’d they call it, the venadahl. Rolling her eyes, she almost wanted to correct them on what a true venadahl was but she rather liked the elves in the alienage. It was certain ancient elves she _didn’t_ like. Or who knows, maybe he’s not such an ass should she ever meet him. Not that she’d be here long enough to meet him. She still had plans to get into the Black Emporium to see if Xenon knew anything about the books.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” She swore and kicked a wooden box as the butterfly she found on the side of an abandoned warehouse now led her _back_ to Lowtown. A few dock workers and merchants looked her way as she continued swearing and blurting out expletives. She was on a proverbial treasure hunt. She was Nicholas Goddamn Cage, the only difference being she’d not steal the Declaration of Independence. Oh no, she had _other_ plans. She had a bone to pick with Samson. A series of bones that would be stripped and flayed for every ounce of worth he had. Coin from his pockets, any lyrium he had on him, fat for soap, bones for… for she didn’t know. She was sure she could think of _some_ use for the rest of him.

So it was Back to Lowtown she went and then up to Hightown and then back to Lowtown where a butterfly faintly reminded her of _another_ one she’d seen and then she was on that staircase. A familiar one from a few days ago. Between Lowtown and Darktown and accessed only from the staircase down from Hightown.

“No…” Stepping into the alley, she spied Tita’s shop. Next to it was a run down shack but on the door hung a series of metal windchimes in the shape of butterflies, like the one she had. Holding it up, she squinted and reached for the door, opening the door. It wasn’t locked. The wind chimes announced her arrival. There was no way of entering without activating those chimes, so she let it be.

The room inside was small, but there was another doorway and then a staircase that led down and one that led up. So it was a building connected with the one it was built on. Or just an extension of the one underneath it.

Maneuvering her way in, she listened. A creak of floorboards from above had her pausing and then the descent of steps. She slid out of side of the doorway and into a corner, waiting. The person that came to the door however, was not who she expected.

A woman with wavy hair, blue eye shadow, and a severe expression greeted her suspiciously when her gaze went directly to the corner. Her body stiff until she caught sight of the butterfly in Lena’s hand. “Where’d you get that?”

“Uh…” Lena looked down and then up at who she guessed was _Charade Amell_ . But she wasn’t sure. The woman looked _nothing_ like Gamlen but that had been apparent in game as well. “A friend, helping me find someone.”

“Who are you looking for?” The woman asked, cross and blocking the doorway. Her hand twitched toward her side where Lena spotted a dagger and a red handkerchief.

“Samson.” She breathed slowly, keeping her heart rat in check as she lied. “He missed an appointment.”

“He’s in a bad way.”

“I’d imagine, withdrawing from Lyrium is terrible business.” Lena stated carefully, watching the woman but she relaxed at those words. “Where is he?”

“Just upstairs.” She let her pass through the doorway and she climbed up the stairs. Most of the building was darkened wood, worn out with no color. There were scratch marks where nails had scratched repeatedly into the side of the stairwell or in corners. Dust and dirt littered most of the building and filth in pots here and there. An malodorous stench filtered in and it was like the building itself was alive as the smell wafted in and out in breaths through the planks of wood it was made of, faint wafts of the chokedamp from below didn’t help, but Lena pulled up her jacket.

There were others around, dirt and grubby men and women. She recognized the talkative man from the Hanged Man, muttering. His eyes alight as he met her gaze. “Not from here, not from here. Old and big, ancient.” he whispered as she darted past him. She always wondered where he slept. But she had no doubt he’d be at the Hanged Man again tonight.

Moving past him, she looked at every face, at every poor and destitute that had to come here for a place to rest. There were even some young faces, teenagers with bruised faces and charred hands. One young one was being tended to by a familiar Chantry Initiate, only he wasn’t wearing his robes but rather the familiar tacky brown robe he wears to visit the Rose. She darted past him before he could see her as his brogue and accent calmed the teenager’s pain.

“You shouldn’t have tried, the Lady would have found you.”

“I just wanted to do the Jenny’s proud.” Came the anguished sob.

“You’re much too inexperienced to be getting involved with such business, we’ll start you off smaller.” He soothed their hair. Lena watched him, brows furrowed.

Jenny? As in _Red_ Jenny? The Friends of Red Jenny?! Selena looked behind her to Charade, to the red handkerchief at her belt and then back to the royal archer. He had a red scarf tied around his wrist as he tended to the wounded.

 _What?!_ Shaking her head of the implications, Lena kept moving with a mental note to ask her _patron_ about this later.

At the end of the floor, she came into a room where a tall wild maned haired woman was leaning over an occupied bedroll. The man laying in it was Samson, pale and sickly but then again he’d always been pale. His eyes unfocused as he drifted in and out of what looked like sleep but he’d jerk awake and shake his head, muttering and rambling. The woman dropped a pouch in his hands to which he seemed to calm. She rose and glanced over Lena with her gold and blue ringed eyes as she left. She looked eerily familiar. Lena couldn’t quite figure out where she knew her from.

Her attention was grasped by Samson who sat up shaky and pulled a box from under his pillow. He looked up at Lena, expectantly. “Do you have it?”

Lena turned to Charade, questioning.  She must have read something else in her expression because she left the room, leaving Lena alone with Samson.

“Don’t make me wait.” Samson pleaded.

Lena pulled her dagger from her waist, the flame enchanted one. With Charade out, she closed the door and tucked the dagger in her sleeve and turned to Samson. Her heart thudded in her ear, ringing and pumping blood as the adrenaline rushed. The dagger grew heavy in her palm. One thought in her head.   _Revenge_.  

He’d stolen lyrium and coin from Harlan, and the debt from that deed had been saddled on her all those many months ago. Her breath quickened as she grew closer.

“Where’s the lyrium?” Samson spat pulling his philter out of the box and the tincture and mixture he would use to make his lyrium solution.

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Lena stated as she approached him. “I’m not here to give you your next dose.”

Samson froze and looked at her, really looked at her. “Who…”

Lena pounced, the dagger clumsily held aloft pressed against his throat before he could react.His reactions were slow, lethargic.

“You owe me a lot of money.” Lena spat in his face. “You _stole_ from me, you sonvabitch.”

“I stole from no one!”  Samson pleaded as he stilled under her. Her knees pressed into the bedroll, straddling him.

“Liar!” Her knuckles turned white as the dagger’s enchantment flared up. Samson’s eyes turned toward the dagger and she froze as his hands clasped her waist, gripping her. His muscles taut as he hefted her. it took all of two seconds for her to realize she’d made a mistake. She should have pinned his arms down. Sure she’d caught him off guard but this man had been a _Templar_.  He’d trained, hefted a sword and shield every day since he was young.

He hefted her right off him with force and tossed her to the side with a growl. She wasn’t prepared for the toss and yelped. Her dagger went flying as she tucked her head to protect from the fall.

Samson scrambled to grab the dagger but he was disorientated as he lunged for a piece of rotten wood.  His face contorted into confusion but he stumbled around the room, his pupils dilated. Lena stood before him as his limbs had him stumbling. She pulled her other dagger, the frost enchantment one out and kept it low as she approached Samson.  His head snapped up, tracking her general form.

She knew lyrium withdrawal made your memory doggy. Gritting her teeth she edged around the room but grew closer to him. “Six months ago, you were in Darktown.”

“I was nowhere!”

“You were! And you were buying lyrium from the Coterie.” Lena explained, slow like trying to jog his memory. “Don’t you remember?”

Samson stilled. His gaze flickered to and fro.

“You _stole_ from the Coterie and their coin.” Lena offered and Samson snapped to her again.

“No! I never!”

“You did. And I got saddled with the blame! You _owe me_!” She seethed and made to jump at him again but he held his hands out, dropping the wood.

“I didn’t I didn’t steal from the Coterie!”

“Bullshit! I was there! I saw you run off with the lyrium and the coin! Athenril tried to get it back from you.”

“No you don’t understand. I tried to. I will admit I did try but I didn’t she took it before I could get away!” Samson hurried out his explanation.

Lena stilled, staring, taking in his desperation and how he had tossed his weapon down. “Who is _she_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, this chapter was powered by Panic at the Disco's "Death of a Bachelor" album and Fall Out Boy's "Save Rock and Roll" album.


	19. Where the Breadcrumbs Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric is hot on Samson's trail. Unfortunately he is also on Lena's.

“That’s a nice crossbow you’ve got there, Tethras.” Khirak stroked his beard as Varric walked into the pitiful Carta headquarters in Darktown. He had to remind himself again it was just one branch of the Carta and their presence on the surface wasn’t exactly massive beyond small branches to ease the shipment of lyrium. Nonetheless it was better than the other locations he had emptied out. 

Khirak just happened to be the head of this branch. Each Carta branch controlled a network of lyrium smuggling routes. The only reason they were trying to break out in Kirkwall is to break off the middleman the coterie had. There were all sorts of lyrium smuggler groups in Orzammar but the Carta was just the most powerful. The Carta only had large footholds in Ferelden, Orlais, and Antiva. In the Free Marches however it was the Coterie that ruled, with the head of the entire operation being in Kirkwall. The Coterie put a chokehold on the Carta’s influence here. The Carta had to pay their dues to the Coterie as with any other gang or guild. 

Not, thankfully, the Merchant’s Guild. 

“It sure is.” He spoke stiffly. The only reason he had even come to the Carta in the first place was because Gerav owed him. Years spent working with the Coterie and Carta had left Varric with a lot of debts to collect on. Favors are worth more than coin. “It's still not for sale.” Varric crossed his arms. 

It's the same thing he'd said the first time he came here and once again he reiterated. He knew it wasn't going to stop them. He'd long since burned the blueprints for the design. Even Bianca, the woman, had agreed that this kind of weapon could easily be abused if the Carta got their mitts on it. 

He really wished he'd gotten used to calling it something else if only to throw them off her track. But Bianca really did have a nice ring to it. He had to admit to Lena she had been right. Her name, Selena, just didn't flow quite as well for the weapon. And he did feel a bit guilty about nearly putting her in harm's way. Bianca, the woman, had a bit more sway with the Carta due to her family history with them and if they did go after her, well… He knew enough about the smith to know they'd die a rather explosive death. 

“Hmph.” Khirak grumbled as Varric dropped the three swathes of cloth and keys to each smugglers’ hideout. “Didn't think you could take em on all on your own.” Khirak eyed Bianca enviously again, fully aware of its unique abilities as a weapon.

“I could have taken them with a bow just as well.” Varric smirked. 

“Nowhere near as fast and not without at least someone covering you.” Khirak glared as he walked around the room and opened a book. 

There was no lying in this scenario, so he shrugged. “So. The templar?” He prodded Khirak, who meandered around the room. 

“Your former Templar has friends yet still in the circle and order. They use the tunnels quite a bit because according to Templar reports, a few mages have gone missing since he was discharged.” Khirak explained. “I'd look into the Tranquil, ask around.” He shrugged. “That's all I know. 

Varric glared and left the decrepit headquarters. It was the middle of the night, approaching morning.  No one would be able to get into the Gallows at this time much less go in and question any Templars and Tranquil. He grunted. He had to wait now. 

With exhaustion burning at his eyes he headed toward Tita’s. It was closer than heading back to the Hanged Man. He just needed to buy something and get a move on. 

* * *

 

Sand nettle was a particular growth found in swamps. It grew as a nettle on a bush near bogs and swamps, they fell as the season changed into the water or moist dirt and usually dissolved overtime, releasing its core component. It was a component often used in potion making to manage headaches and stay exhaustion. It was like Antivan coffee beans but in smoking form and extremely addictive. It wasn’t regulated by the Chantry or the Merchants Guild so naturally he’d bought it. From Tita no less. 

Varric only pinched a small helping into his pipe as he waited for his contact outside the Gallows, the late morning sun all but blinding him. 

The Carta hadn’t thought he’d be able to take down all three of those smugglers singlehandedly - they seriously underestimated him. And though he was going to sport some new scars, he had enjoyed the thrill of it. He hadn’t had a good fight in a while. Too many people recognized him as Bartrand’s younger brother, but now it might be good to get out there again. The Carta, though, they owed him even if they did give him a tip to the Gallows. Not exactly somewhere he wanted to go. But he did have contacts in the Gallows, some Templars and mages, heck even some Tranquil, but not many of them would know where a disgraced Templar would be. It didn’t hurt to check of course. He’d asked a friend to do an inquiry. 

He lit his pipe up. The green smoke that was produced wafted up and was blown away by the ocean breeze. The taste was heavy and heady but it sharpened his senses and woke him up. His eyes not so weary as he plotted his next course of action. 

His network did a little investigating. After he'd cleared those other smugglers out he was able to put in place his own people. Even if the Carta had wanted those locations for themselves. He wasn't stupid. They don’t take him seriously, they don't get prime real estate in Darktown. Especially so close to the Gallows tunnels. 

Word around was there's another smuggler group. New and they were rising up with a steady source of lyrium  _ and _ coin, chasing out other small timers as they grew. Mostly elves too. Varric was willing to bet the thief was in that group. 

“Tethras.” Came the jovial yet serious tone of Ser Thrask. 

“Thrask. Good to see you.” Varric answered and held his pipe to the side. “It's been too long.” 

“That it has. I hear though condolences are in order? Your mother was a kind woman.”

Varric held his hand up to stop him and waved it. He didn't want to think of his mother. “She was.”

“I shall have to buy you a pint at the hanged man next then.” Thrask offered as he clapped Varric’s shoulder. 

“No need for that. Though if you could point me in the right direction…” Varric looked up at the Templar. “I've a former Templar to find.”

“I heard. Samson was it?” 

Varric’s brows furrowed. “How'd you hear?” 

“Your lady was just here yesterday.” Thrask frowned. 

“ _ My _ lady?” Varric’s chest constricted, a moment of panic. Who was claiming to be his lady? He could think of a few and none of which he would like them to be claiming such a title. “Who was she?” 

“She was a dwarf-” that narrowed this down. “With oddly curled hair-” 

“Curvy?” Varric swore at Thrask’s nod. 

“I assume then she is not your lady? The gossips have spread quite a rumor about you in the taverns.” Thrask stroked his beard. “I shall have to correct them.”

Varric went to agree but then stopped, squinting as a sly grin graced his features. “No- no. She is  _ my _ lady.” He had a feeling that sort of proclamation would  _ piss _ Lena right off and have her fumbling. “You say she was here? And asking about Samson?”

“Yes. She seemed to know him personally and she directed her inquiries to a Tranquil that was especially close to him.” 

“She did, did she?” Varric stamped his pipe out.  _ Andraste’s ass Lena, you couldn't have stayed put.  _ Hopefully she went right back to the Hanged Man. “What did the Tranquil say?”

“He said the man in question rested where the butterflies did.” Thrask offered, playing the fool. 

“The butterflies?” Varric raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes. I, a templar, would not know what manner of speech they spoke.” Thrask winked. 

Snorting, Varric packed away his pipe. “Thanks.” He smirked and made to head out. 

“Varric.” Thrask halted him. “You appear quite...exhausted.” His gaze gestured to the overgrown scruff. Varric rubbed at his chin, self conscious of the beginnings of the wisp of a beard. Just because he didn’t grow a beard didn’t mean he couldn’t. 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” 

“This lady of yours… she isn’t really your lady?” 

“She’s an…” Varric weighed his words. “An informant.” 

“Ah.” Thrask nodded his head. “You take care of your people very well.” 

“Too well.” He sighed. “See you at wicked grace night.” 

* * *

 

Darn near every Kirkwaller who had ever been a degenerate at one time or another knew where the butterflies rested. When he'd been at his lowest his brother had found him there. He sighed, shaking his head. The problem however was that the Butterfly Nest was never in one spot for long. There was always gangs coming in and out, taking over territories. So they left a carving or a painting of a butterfly to lead those who required aid or a place to stay to the next location. There aren’t many buildings in Lowtown that  _ hasn’t _ housed the Butterfly Nest. Not to mention the responsibility of keeping it up has switched hands often and to dubious purpose and back more times than he could count. 

He knew where it was though, he just really hoped Lena hadn't gone looking for it. 

Varric sped through Lowtown to the rooftop alley he'd been to just last night. It'd been dark and he had spied the hanging butterflies on the door next to Tita’s shack. They had chimed, clinking in the night’s wind. Now though, the door was open the chimes scattered across the rooftop alley’s small overgrown courtyard. There was a grossly familiar chantry initiate knelt by a crying child and by the Butterfly Nest there was a rugged human with the hand tremors and the tell tale signs of lyrium exhaustion. He sported a bruised nose and was being tended by a woman. 

“Messere Tethras.”

Varric paused, his back teeth ground hard as he turned to the Chantry initiate and prince of Starkhaven. He had hoped he wouldn't see his mug for at least several weeks. 

“Sebastian.” 

“I assume you're here about our  _ friend _ in common.” Sebastian tilted his head, his face grim and sorrow. It was then Varric noticed the red handkerchief Sebastian held but there were darker splotches on it and the kid nor the prince were bleeding. 

“What happened?” 

“Perhaps a more private location would be prudent?” 

“ _ What happened? _ ” Varric pressed. He didn't reach for Bianca only because there was a kid present, but the twitch of his fingers let Sebastian know not to push him.

“The child knows more than me,” Sebastian sighed and gestured to the child next to him. “Be gentle,” he warned.

Varric didn’t need to be told that but he did take a breath to calm himself as he took in the girl. She was wiping her face. He recognized her.  _ Shit.  _ Sighing, he stepped to the child. She tried to hide behind Sebastian’s robes but the Prince reassured her and pushed her forward. Varric approached slower and got down on one knee.

“Hey, Danika right? Remember me? I live right by the Orphanage, at the Hanged Man.” He said softly and with a smile. He did know her but only because she tended to some of the more “different” orphans. One of which was the entire reason he had chosen the Hanged Man to move into. He’d once given the girl sweetbread during Summerday, but he’d doubt she’d remember that. It was nearly a year ago. 

The little grey skinned girl stared at him sniffing but nodded. 

“Why don't you tell me what happened?” He gave her a charming smile but her eyes watered up and she ducked her face and body behind Sebastian. Varric frowned. “You don't have to be afraid.”

“The-the dwarf lady….Mad-mad-ahme. She smiles like you!” she hiccuped and more tears leaked out as she began to sob. That rose some eyebrows. 

“There there, it's alright, child.” Sebastian also knelt. The Prince was good with kids. He rubbed her back while soothing her with words of reassurance. 

“Last last night sh-she- the dwarf lady… she had a knife and pointed it at us.” She stuttered out and looked around, fearfully. 

“Lena?” Sebastian and him asked, incredulous. She nodded, which prompted both to look each other. That didn’t sound like Lena. 

“S-s-he-she wanted t-to know -hic- whe-where the butterflies rest. And-and so Merry- -hic- Merry knew where. She knew t-th-he song. But she was so scarwy an-and mean. -hic- She gave us coin and and food and-and -hic- I thought she was nice but she's mean but -hic- she didn't hurt me. But waaaaaah,” the girl broke down and covered her face as she cried, curling into a ball. 

“Alright. It's okay. Hey hey, it's alright. Kid, you did good.” He said slow and even toned so he didn't scare her. 

“Bu-but there's more!” She wailed, her arm muffling her cries. They gave her a minute as she cried, calming down and then peeking up. She took see breaths, knowing this was the important part. She was astute, Varric gave her that. “There was an elf. She was scawier. She made me show her where ‘ena was…” She became somber, bottom lip quivering and tears threatening to fall again. “She hurt her and took her. I shouldn’t have brought her to ‘ena!” 

Varric’s shoulders stiffened, and he refrained outwardly reacting and possibly scarring the girl further. He took a deep slow breath and looked back at the former Templar and then at the sniffling and ready-to-burst-into-tears-again girl. “Take her to the Hanged Man, Choir Boy. Have Norah give her some food and hole her up in my room.” He got off the floor and approached the lyrium addict and the unknown woman. He made sure Sebastian and the girl were gone. 

An elf had taken Lena, according to Danika. An  _ elf _ had threatened a girl to get to Lena. Well, now he knew Harlan had some cutthroat workers but to use a child? Either this  _ elf _ had no standards or Lena knew something. He took a heavy breath. She very well knew something she shouldn’t.

“Samson?” He asked. The addict flinched. Varric gave a forced grin and turned to the woman. “Messere, I'm terribly sorry about this but I think it's best you step back.” The woman gave him a glare with a pinched expression but stepped out of the way. Rolling his eyes, he moved around her and grabbed at Samson’s collar and hauled him up. 

“You're coming with me.” He breathed, the human tried to fight him but Varric was stronger. Years spent learning archery since he was a child left him with a strong grip and arm and back strength. Though Samson was a former Templar, he'd really let his discipline go. He wasn't anywhere near as strong as he could be. 

“I didn't steal it! I swear.” 

“Bullshit.” Varric spat. 

“I swear on the maker, I didn’t!”

“Uh huh. And I’m the Queen of Antiva.” Varric pushed him against a wall and pulled at Bianca, shooting one bolt into Samson’s shoulder right where it’d puncture him to the wall. Samson groaned in pain. 

“I even told her too! She believed me!” 

“Told who?” 

“The dwarf. She came looking for me. Accused me-” another bolt went into his shoulder, Samson grunted, his legs scrambling underneath him as he tried to grip them and pull them out. 

“Try again.” Varric loaded Bianca up again. 

“She accused me- no wait wait. She did. She thought I stole the lyrium and coin! I didn't. I swear. I wanted to, but I didn't. Athenril caught me and took it before I could stash it. Said I was foolish to steal from Harlan.” Samson spilled out, flinching his eyes closed when Varric pressed Bianca closer. 

“You could be lying.” He cocked Bianca. 

“Wait no no! I'm not!”

He stared hard at the former Templar for a long time. He switched tactics. “It's good you're not, then.”

“Yes wait why?” 

“Because you're coming with me.” Varric cocked Bianca. 

“With you?! Where?!”

“We’re going to take a little trip together.” 

“Where?!” 

“To Harlan, and don’t you dare think of running.” 

“Are you crazy?!” 

“No but today  _ really _ isn't my day. And I'm not exactly patient.” Varric ripped the bolts out and punched Samson in the jaw. “That's for forcing a debt on an innocent.” He gave a harsher right hook. “That's for not coming clean sooner.” He grinned butter and pulled at the former Templar, who slumped as he was dragged. He let him trip down the stairs. “And that's just because I don't plain like you.” He grumbled as he led the Templar up to Hightown. 

It was too early. No one in the Rose would be awake. Good thing he didn't need a key. He picked the door open and bullied Samson up to the fourth floor and kicked Luisine’s door open. The throaty moans of Harlan and the pained gasps of Luisine was interrupted as Samson went sprawling into the table and it collapsed, breaking. 

Luisine shrieked but Harlan kept going, pounding away at the flailing woman.

“GET OUT!” Luisine cried. 

“Sorry, Madame, no can do. I’ve got business with Harlan and I’m on a timed schedule.” Varric apologized to her, while keeping his gaze away from her to afford her some modesty. Luisine pulled a blanket, her body shaking with each thrust from Harlan. “I've found your thief.” Varric pronounced but the Coterie head ignored him, not even bothered by their presence. 

“By the maker!” Samson groaned, mouth dropping open as he watched the two on the bed. 

“Have some decency.” Varric kicked his lower back. 

Harlan chuckled but didn’t stop, if anything having an audience spurned him on. His hips jutted quickly and then he stilled. “Out.” He growled.

With narrowed eyes, Varric stepped up. “We had a deal.” 

“Not you Tethras.” Harlan rolled his eyes as he sat back on the bed. Luisine slunk out of the sheets and snatched her dress off the floor before fleeing the room, with a sneer and hiss at the man on the bed. 

Varric didn’t look at her, but Samson gawked and leered. Again he gave the former templar a kick. “Pig.”

“Are you trying to tell me this coward-” Harlan’s scarred mug of a face sneered as he pulled his pants on, standing. 

Varric noted there was no inch of him that wasn’t scarred or bruised. 

“This  _ wretch _ of a man. Disgraced Templar, scraping for coin to buy lyrium.  _ He _ is stealing from  _ my _ Coterie?” Harlan stalked shirtless toward Samson, and pulled a dagger from the holster still attached to his arm. He hadn’t even removed the holster during his row with Luisine. Something to be said about a man who can't even be unarmed one second. 

“I didn’t steal from you, Harlan. I swear!” Samson tried to scuttle backward, flailing over the broken bits of the table. Harlan grabbed him by the scruff of his neck before he could escape. 

“No.” Varric offered, offering no help to the former Templar. 

The Coterie head sunk his fist into Samson’s stomach and then slapped his face. He curled his fingers in on the templar’s cheek and dug them into draw blood all the way down to his jaw. 

“I’m saying your left hand is.” 

“Athenril?” Harlan turned toward Tethras with Samson still in his grasp. Looking down at Samson, he kneed him in the groin. Samson gasped and tried to wrench free of his attacker, but Harlan was used to dealing with lyrium addicted Templars. His arms tense and taut and entire body tight as he held fast. 

“You expect me to believe Athenril, who I practically raised, groomed and made her into who she is now, has turned against me?” Harlan shot to Varric and sent another blow to Samson. At Varric’s nod, he flashed his teeth with a growl. “If you're lying Tethras.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” 

“What evidence do you have?”

Varric gestured to the wretch. Chuckling low and dangerous, Harlan lifted Samson to his feet and directed the cowering man to a chair. “Sit.” Samson sat on command. “Talk.” Harlan used his dagger to clean the gunk from his nails, but the presence of the knife was noted by the Templar. 

And did he talk. He babbled and sung. “It was Athenril! She-she stole from you months ago, when I was buying lyrium!” He started off. 

“Way I remember,  _ you _ stole from me. I was there. You ran off with the lyrium and coin.” Harlan twirled his dagger. “You see how this looks right? And you're trying to say Athenril stole it and framed you?” Harlan tutted. 

“I know! I okay look I did want to steal it. You don't know what it's like. The lyrium, once you're on it...it calls for you if you stop. So I tried to steal it from you. The coin was just extra. But she caught me. I was going to stash it but she caught up with me, beat me up and took it for herself.” Samson shrunk under the Coterie’s gaze. “Then the dwarf, she found me. Said I owed her.” 

Harlan leaned back with a squint. “The dwarf?” 

“He's talking about Lena.” Varric offered. “She managed to find Samson before I could.” He huffed. He'd have to ask her how she managed that. 

Harlan turned a pleased lazy grin his way while his fist crashed into Samson’s jaw, knocking him out. “She found the Templar  _ before _ you? Tell me again how she isn't exactly what the Coterie needs?”

“She's  _ not _ going to be your new Viktor Baltier.” Varric ground out and reached for Bianca, threatening. 

“Fine.” Harlan spat but turned. “So, Athenril stole the goods and framed Samson. How's that supposed to be proof she's the thief?”

“Lena found out about that. And Athenril used a  _ kid _ to draw Lena away.” Varric glared. “But where, I don't know. You wouldn't happen to know where your left hand went?” 

Harlan flashed grating grin and dropped an unconscious Samson on the mess of broken table. “I do. It's where she was supposed to take Lena today anyway.”

“And that is?”

“Sundermount.” 

“Good to know. Now if you'll excuse me-” Varric turned but Harlan stepped up. 

“Oh ho. You think you're going alone, Tethras?” Harlan ground out as he pulled his jacket off the end of the bed and shoes. “My little knife ear’s all grown up and betraying me. No one else is going to discipline the knife ear but me.” His throat rumbled, gaze sinister and dark. 

Varric felt a sour taste in his mouth at the slur but it wasn't like he could stop him. But where Harlan went to round up a few of his people, Varric ducked into the second floor and darted into one of the rooms.

It wasn't like he'd be going alone either. 

“Denier. Wake your bearded arse up.” He drew the curtains on the window, the dwarf in question grunted and went to turn over, arm slinging over the body next to him. It was Serendipity who mumbled in her sleep. The two entangled tightly. 

Sighing, he was going to regret this. He grabbed the blanket and ripped it off the two of them. Their naked bodies exposed to the cold air. Serendipity woke first but Denier was as asleep as the stone. Dip blinked aware, sending a weary glare at Varric. 

“Sorry to bother you Dip, but I need Denier.” 

“Nier.” Dip kicked at her lover. When he didn’t respond, she pushed him off the bed.  Denier shot u, grumbling and cursing. 

“Blasted nughumping- what in the stone made you do that?!” Denier glowered with the remnants of sleep clawing at his eyes. His head dipped forward, ready to sleep some more, but Serendipity  reached over and slapped his face light like. 

“Varric’s here.” She said around a yawn. Varric handed the blanket back to her and she rolled over, hogging it to herself.  Denier turned to Tethras, opened his mouth. 

“Lena’s missing.” Was all Varric needed to say before Denier shut up and quickly stood up. “We’re heading to Sundermount.” 

“Blasted woman, can’t go one week now without getting into trouble. Terrible sister.  Why’d I even thought of adopting her.”  Denier grumbled as he shucked his trousers on and pulled out some leathers deep in his chest. A mace and small rounded shield was pulled out and Denier strapped it all on. “Why Sundermount?” 

“Athenril took her there.” 

“Bleeding elf _. _ ” Denier slid the shield in place. 

They didn’t head out immediately. It was a day’s hike up to Sundermount more if you took other less cumbersome routes. But which route Athenril and Lena took was anyone’s guess. Still they had to collect some supplies, rope, rations, and waterskins. But they were still faster than Harlan as Varric and Denier were outside of Kirkwall by early afternoon. Varric smoked another sand nettle pipe and passed it to Denier who scoffed but took a puff as they waited. 

It wasn’t long until Harlan approached with three others; a man whom Varric knew simply as Locke, a lanky yet toned elven woman with a shock of red hair, and a stocky barrel-shaped man who wielded a spiked maul. The three dutifully followed after Harlan and sported worn leather fittings that made Varric’s brows rise. The patches and signs of punctures were all in locations that would have killed anyone else. 

The Coterie head didn’t look twice at Varric but kept walking toward the path. Varric and Denier exchanged looks but quickly followed after them but kept their distance. They just so happened to be heading in the same direction but Varric wanted to keep Harlan in his sight.  If they found Lena, he wanted to make sure the man didn’t pull anything, should he still insist she become his right hand. 

There were tales told on All Soul’s Day of Sundermount’s dangerous pathways. Of the graves still littering the pathway. Burying the dead were Nevarran’s Old ways before the Chant spread the Chantry’s influence and teaching. People used to be buried instead of set to the pyre as a funeral rite, in hopes spirits would take their bodies and walk among the living to rejoin their grieving families. Now thought, such a thing was dangerous as it invited demons and abominations. Or so Varric had learned. 

He and Denier stuck close as they made their way through the pathway, quiet and careful not to disturb the dead. Harlan and his crew didn’t have such respect, and paid the price as skeletons rose from the loose dirt. 

He’d have left them there, but he sighed and turned Bianca onto the undead, helping take them out. Denier’s own mace and shield bashing the pitiful excuse of enemies, but they took them down fast and hard.  If the skeletons disturbed the other graves it would allow their numbers to build up and Varric, Harlan, and everyone else would quickly be overrun and outnumbered. 

There were pockets of graves all the way up the path, shaded areas. And if it were only  _ just _ the graves, it would be easy. But the trees gave wonderful cover for wolves, bears, and the occasional cave that was nested with spiders or wild dogs. 

At nightfall they stopped as a group. A nug was caught and shared between them and the rations they’d brought. Then between the suspicious looks, there was a consensus made of who would take first watch. Varric let Denier sleep first, he had to make sure Bianca didn’t have any kinks in her. 

At dawn they set off again. 

“So where exactly did Athenril take her?” Denier asked Harlan. The human looked back and sneered. 

“Hideout Baltier found.” He spat. “They were supposed to ambush the thief.” 

“If Athenril is the thief, don't you think Baltier would have known that then? Why bother with the ambush?” Denier squinted. Varric wouldn't have had the balls to say this but he'd come to the same conclusion. 

Harlan froze, once again looking back. He was connecting the clues. Baltier and Athenril had both been playing Harlan a fool. Harlan’s fists clenched and the audible growl had his three companions flinching and putting a more than an arm's length distance between them and him. Athenril was likely not to survive as soon as they found her. 

It was some hours later when they were halfway up the mountain when they heard it. A loud raucous boom that carried over the clefts, ridges, and cliffs.  The snow up the mountain shifted and came sliding down one side with large rocks and debris while birds and critters around scampered off and away. 

The group stilled, looking up. Not a second later, Varric bustled forward, speeding up as quick as his legs could carry him. If he looked a tad paler, no one said anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this because tomorrow is the first day of October, but I told myself "Screw it lets toss it out for ya'll early" so here ya go! I hope ya'll enjoyed. Especially that ending. *evil cackling*


	20. Mistress of Torment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena adopts a new persona to get the job done. **Major Trigger Warnings** this chapter. Longer chapter summary available in end notes if you want to skip on reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Major trigger warning due to graphic depictions of violence, descriptions of torture, and disassociation with humanity.**  
>  Warning: This chapter would arouse Krieger.  
> 
> 
> Shoutouts to LonelyAgain for helping me out with some scenes and also to Spellweaver for giving me a very distracting AU idea that I've been working on as a "happy" to take break from this suffering.

Sundermount towered high up into the sky over the Vimmark mountains. It's peaks were obscured by fluffy white clouds that rolled across the Free Marches’ skies. The mountain pass was quiet as they approached the foot of the mountain, the incline sloping up. Lena tracked the path and up into the mountains. It was a long way up and likewise a long way down. She was sorely under dressed and under prepared for a hike up a mountain. Not that it mattered to Athenril.

Lena could see a jutting cliff, she assumed that was where the altar to Mythal was. Where one day Hawke and his or her merry band of companions would deliver an amulet and Mythal would be born again. Assuming she was killed by the Warden. _If she would be killed._ She corrected herself.

While the pass did not look like it did in game, it did not make her any less cautious. Bandits, highwaymen, heck even corrupt guardsmen could be lurking around any corner. While she had killed two people recently - the thought making a stabbing guilt rise up - she was by no means ready for combat. The leathers she wore fit her snug, the daggers she had bought were in place but short of a container of poultice and some potion bottles she had nothing else on her as she traveled. She had no water, no food, nothing.

After her little discussion with Samson, she’d meant to drag the templar out with her, but he was less than receptive to her idea of taking him to see Harlan. It wasn’t like she had any way of bullying someone bigger and stronger than her and could take her down in a few seconds. She’d only gotten the drop on him because he had lowered his guard and the lyrium addiction slowed him. So she got Sebastian to help her.

Nothing quite like religious guilt and a firm punch in the face on her behalf from Sebastian to make a former templar and devout Andrastian to willingly give in and go with her. Or he would have. Athenril had been waiting. And she wasn’t alone. She really hoped Nika was okay. Lena pulled the bandage tighter around her hand, where she had tried prying the knife Athenril had poised against the child. Children, no matter how much she hated them, did not deserve that kind of trauma.

“Athenril.” Lena called. The elf said nothing but spurned them faster along the path. Lena could feel her heart racing as it was, her eyes swiveling around to see if she could make a run for it. “We don’t have any water, or or food. How are we supposed to survive out here?”

The Coterie agent didn’t even acknowledge her, but if Lena lagged behind too much Athenril would grip her shoulder and drag her along. It was as night approached that Lena began to worry. Her stomach rumbled, but she could ignore the hunger pains easy enough. She could not however ignore the cold and suspicion that rose. She tried to run, it did not end well when Athenril bore down on her. She was pushed, smacked and then her hands bound with rope and pulled along. Her feet tripping as she was dragged. Lena still had her daggers on her but they were sheathed and at her waist. She neither had the know how or stealth capability to grab them, much less the courage to try what with the elf looking back at her so often.

Cowed by Athenril, Lena could do nothing to really fight against the elf so she stopped fighting. For now. Looking back the way they came, she had hoped maybe someone would come for her before they arrived. Lena wasn’t so lucky.

The cave was high up in the mountain where the air was thin. Athenril and her had stopped only once to gather water from a stream, at Lena’s pleading because she’d been thirsty.

“Is this it?” Lena asked as Athenril didn’t move but glared at the entrance. It was night, the darkness thick around them as the dual moons hid behind dark clouds that had begun to roll in. “Is this where the _thief_ is?” She asked, keeping up the pretense. Because Lena was beginning to suspect that Athenril was the thief.

“According to Viktor, yes.” Athenril crossed her arms whilst sneering. “Go.” She undid the rope bindings and shoved Lena at the entrance.

What was the whole point of this? She knew Athenril was the thief. Why was she insisting on her going in the cave? Why couldn’t they just admit her whole part in this and move on? The only reason she’d insist is if she was going to frame her for the theft and kill her. Lena gulped, paling from the reality of what was about to happen. She wasn’t coming back from this little trip.

There was no fighting a seasoned warrior, even a rogue. Selena wasn’t fast, she wasn’t strong, tactful and smart yes but this was the wilderness. She had _nothing_. So she did the only thing she could do. Took a deep breath and walked into the cave, resigned to her fate.

What would she find? An ambush? A firing squad to kill her and then prop her body to make it seem like she’s the thief? Would they have her with a bunch of coin? She smiled, bitter at the idea. Six months in debt and it would be after her death she’d have enough coin. Her eyes teared, bottom lip quivered, pre-emptively flinching at the possible pain but the cave was empty.

No it wasn’t empty, it was filled. It had a burning fire, its smoke filtering up. There were crates and barrels along one side and a tent along with a few bedrolls. There was one wooden chest and table with barrels around it for seats. “What?” She turned around to look at Athenril who walked in after her, prowling at Lena and staring at her.

“Shh.” She pursed her lips and held a finger up.

Lena’s brows furrowed as she watched Athenril as silent as the dead duck into the tent. There was one shout, a kerfuffle of fighting before it was quiet again. The tent flap opened and out came Athenril with a man at dagger point. He had brown hair and was in only his trousers. His marred, scarred, and firm chest on display, arms bulging with muscles.

“Athenril!” The man spat as he stumbled, but kept himself off the dagger. “What are you-” He didn’t get to finish as the elven coterie kicked him down, gripping his hands and tying them up with the rope she had used on Lena.

“Whos this?” Lena looked at Athenril.

“This is Brekker.” Athenril growled, while holding the man down. “He’s the thief.”

“You bitch!” Brekker grunted, trying to use his feet to attack Athenril but she stepped away, around and punched his face. Lena flinched at the crunch of his nose, turning away as Athenril shoved him forward.

“Why-”

“ _He_ is the thief.” Athenril stressed and glared. “Understand?” She spoke slowly as she forced Brekker to his knees.

“Oh I’m the thief?! We were in this toget-” Brekker didn’t get to finish, but Athenril smacked him again and he spat blood.

“I don’t-” Len began but Athenril pushed Brekker down onto the ground, face into the dirt. He squirmed as the elf pounced on top of him, holding a dagger to his throat.

“Harlan is set on you becoming his right hand.” Athenril spelled it out, seething. Her eyes reflected the firelight as she pushed Brekker’s face further into the dirt and stone.

 _Right hand?!_ With eyes wide, Lena gaped at the elf. “Wh-what?!” She took a step back. “I can’t… I can’t be his right hand!” _Right hand of a crime boss?! That would imply-_ She blanched, shaking her head.

Brekker began laughing, the chuckle deep and rumbling until Athenril growled, pulled him sharply by the hair up. His laughter grew louder. “Harlan wants - hahaha - He wants _her_.” He cackled until Athenril’s knee pressed into his back and he coughed.

“Shut up.” Athenril sliced her dagger down his face, blood staining the metal. “ _You._ ” Athenril addressed her. “You will do what you did to Viktor.”

Lena backed up from Athenril, the sight of more violence prompted flashes of Baltier’s body, spread in his home where he slept, _in an alley in Darktown._ His abdomen, arms, and legs shredded by a dulled knife to gain access to his fats, liver extracted from inside him. Images of Petrice, cut into pieces, the heat of her daggers and force Sebastian had applied to dismember and quarter her after she took what she wanted, the blood and viscera staining the carpet they had wrapped her in and did so again before dumping her remains into the sewers, where the rats would get to her.

She should feel bad - terrible. She should be plagued by guilt. She _killed_ someone, _murdered_ them in cold blood. Sure, Baltier was justifiable homicide as it had been in self defense but Petrice was another matter. _No, not really._ Lena could recall Sebastian’s whimpering, the way he’d been hurt and forced by Petrice. It made her growl deep in her throat even remembering he had been suffering like that. Lena stumbled back, and fell. Shaken and sick, she heaved a great big breath and then stopped. She already had too much blood on her hands, she wouldn’t - couldn’t do this. Not again.

“No.” She whispered. “I won’t. You can’t make me.” Chest puffing up she turned and ran, the coward that she was. She had to get out of there. She exited the cave, out into the night and cold. She meant to gain her bearings but a hand gripped the scruff of her jacket. “NO!” She screeched, loud and fighting but the body that slammed her into the ground was feminine and tight.

“Let me make this clear to you.” Athenril gruffed. “You _don’t_ have a choice. Either you did what you did to Viktor, or you don’t walk out of here alive.” She seethed. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Why does it matter then?!” Lena squirmed, but the body pressed closer

“By the blood of the maker,” Athenril cursed and stopped, getting off her. “This would be so much easier if you hadn’t killed Viktor.” She paced away from Lena and stalked around in a circle before stopping at the cliff, glaring down the mountain, her body stiffened.

“Is it because you’re the thief?” Lena gaped as she sat up and Athenril glared. “Baltier was gaining on you? Found out about your little scheme? And you framed Samson, and I got stuck with the blame, fault, and debt. _Your debt._ ” All her pent up frustration, anger and hopelessness over the last six months rose, clawing its way to the surface. Everything she had suffered wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for the elf before her. “I became a prostitute because of you!” She yelled. “I sold… I sold my _maidenhead_ because of you.” She snarked, bitter. “I...I wouldn’t have _killed_ if it wasn’t for you.” Lena’s voice was a whisper, body shaking.

Athenril didn’t answer but she never looked back either. Her whole body and gaze fixated on the mountain below, specifically a plume of smoke rising up. Her shoulders tensed. She was running out of time.

“Hey. You _piece of shit!_ ” Lena glared as the silence stretched. “Answer me!” She shouted, pulled her fire enchanted dagger out and stalked to her. “I said-” her arm raised to slash at Athenril.

The elf turned around and caught her hand. “Back. Inside.”

“No!” Lena protested but Athenril used sheer forced to push her back, fingers and nails digging into her wrists until they were back into the cave. She was tossed alongside Brekker who had both his arms and legs tied. Athenril wrenched Lena’s dagger out of her grasp and pulled on the one still in its sheath. “Hey!”

“This is how it’s going to go. Lena, you _will_ do what needs to be done to Brekker, and you get part of the pot.” Athenril glowered at them both. “And you get to live.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do I have to-” Lena looked at Brekker who was gagged. His teeth gritted on the rope in his mouth, the glare intensifying as he looked between them.

“You think I’m the only thief?” Athenril laughed, sharp teeth glinting in the low light. “Viktor was in on it too.”

“You...were all stealing? From Harlan, but why?” Lena couldn’t understand. If the right hand and left hand both stole from the head, why would they continue working for him, much less let him live.

Brekker next to her scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“We don’t exactly have a choice. No one - _no one_ crosses Harlan, not without paying.”

“So why steal from him in the first place?”

Athenril stared long at Lena, imperceptible emotions and frustrations flitting across her but she shook her head. “We all have our reasons for that. Viktor has -” Athenril sighed. “ _Had_ a kid. Brekker here just likes an extra bit of coin.”

Lena recoiled. Baltier had a kid?! She felt like she should feel bad but all she could remember was what he almost did to her.

“So… we pin it on Brekker, and we get to leave alive with a hefty bit of coin.” Athenril spoke evenly. “And we remain in Harlan’s good graces.”

Lena stared long and hard, then turned to Brekker who didn’t even hide his hatred.

“Why can’t you do it then?” Lena asked. “Why do I…” She didn’t want to say it out loud.

“I-” Athenril looked away. “I don’t have the stomach for it. But you clearly do.”

 _Clearly, Athenril didn’t see the vomit._ Lena frowned. She couldn’t believe she was considering this, but she’d already done it once, twice now. She wouldn’t wish the guilt of the acts on anyone else. “I’m going to hell anyway…” Lena muttered under her breath. She was always the one who did what _good girls_ would never ever do. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“What do you need?”

What could she need? Slowly, she stood up, not once looking at Brekker as he growled and shouted through his gag. Both women ignored him. Lena looked around the cave. There were large pinkish boxes and pots lining one side of the cave, far from the sleeping area. She approached them.

“Those are filled with lyrium.” Athenril warned.

Lena halted and turned her gaze elsewhere. Back home she’d had a morbid sense of curiosity in her teen years. It had been her _I’m-so-edgy-and-goth_ stage, where she had spoken openly about different torture methods and ways people could extract information or just took pleasure in other’s suffering. It didn’t last long, but when she was older it certainly came into play in her role as a Madame, if only because her clients did want to feel some semblance of pain mixed with pleasure. She never wanted to inflict actual pain, she’d been on the receiving end of that when she’d been a submissive for one year. She learned early on she wasn’t a submissive; she _had_ to be in charge with a strong sense of control over the situation. Otherwise she’d- _No._ She pushed her memories aside.

She took stock of the cave again. There were daggers and knives in one box. In the chest there was a full plate of _templar_ armor with a shield and sword. The table had forks, plates, and a cup. There was more rope, a lot of rope. Why would they need so much rope? There was a rotisserie for the campfire, she pulled it closer and slightly away from the fire.

“Do we need he _\- it_ alive?” She asked as she gathered the rope into a pile, the daggers on the table. All the while it watched and squirmed, but Athenril kept him still.

“We do still need information from him.”

Stilling, Lena took a breath. “ _It_.” she said.

“It?” Athenril asked, the dwarf glared at her and Athenril grinned but nodded, her arms crossed. “ _It_ knows when the next shipment is. And _it_ knows Baltier’s contacts.”

“Alright.” Lena sighed. She couldn’t kill it outright, she had to let it _squeal_ like a pig. Or perhaps a rat. She looked up. “I need a rat or something small with _sharp_ claws.”

“A rat? Why?”

“Well… if we can find one, it would be the quickest method.” Lena explained as she pulled her jacket off. She didn’t want to get morebloodstains on it. She could still see the browned stains Petrice had left on it. She wet her hands with water from the skin and slicked her hair back so it stayed out of her way. “Small animals panic in tight places, they will try digging to escape.” Lena elaborated. She turned her gaze to _it_ and pointed to his stomach. “It’s stomach is fairly soft.”

Athenril’s lips parted a fraction, paling at the imagery of her words. Brekker stopped squirming as the reality of what was about to happen hit him. His complexion became ghostly and greened as his shoulders shook. He tried to squirm faster out of Athenril’s grasp. The elf didn’t react in time and he managed to get to one of the knives, all the while gritting through his gag.

Lena watched him as he grabbed the dagger and turned it on himself. It was her dagger.

“Stop him!” Athenril managed but she was shaken.

Brekker managed to cut his bonds loose but when no one stopped him he went for his ankles and Lena stepped to him, and tossed him onto his back. He hadn’t been trying to keep her off him, instead he was trying for a quick death. She placed one foot over his throat and pressed, he stopped and welcomed the pressure, staring at her pleading for death.

“Do you know how many pounds of pressure it takes to crush a throat?” Lena muttered, sneering down at _it_. “No? Good.” She stepped off him as Athenril got his arms tied again. “Hold it still.” She stepped back and gave a wide grin at his legs. “For reference, it only takes seven pounds of pressure to crush a throat, but it only takes three for the knees.” She gave one big stomp on his knee, the bone crunch and snapped and he screamed into his gag as the leg inverted incorrectly before attempting to snap back. Brekker’s tears unsettled Lena and she stepped back. “On the table.” She whispered, looking away as Athenril pulled the human up onto the table.

“We need his- _it_ ’s information.” Athenril reminded shakily.

“Ungag him.” Lena’s voice came out raspy, her shoulders shook and she thanked the powers that be that she hadn’t eaten in so long. She’d be heaving everything up.

“Please, please. Athenril, kill me. Don’t make her do this.” Brekker pleaded.

Athenril didn’t answer. “Do you need anything else?”

Lena gulped. “A lot of water and wood ashes.”

“Why do you need ashes?”

“I need soap.”

* * *

 

A barrell full of water with all the wood ashes Athenril could find from frequent trips here was propped up and draining. Athenril was in charge of straining the lye solution again and again through the wood ashes and rocks, while Lena boiled a pot of water on the campfire, the knives and daggers sitting inside it.

“Why are you boiling them?” Athenril asked.

“So he - _it_ doesn’t die of infection, who knows how long this may take. A few hours, a few days. Better to be safe than sorry.” She shrugged and looked up, squinting. “I hope you have a plan on feeding me. My last meal was this morning, and I do need to eat.” Lena muttered.

“What? You’re not going to eat him?” She joked, but froze when Lena turned to look at her. A sickly look about her as she considered the possibility. “ _You’re not going to eat him, right?_ ”

“I’m not a cannibal.” Lena shook her head. “Besides, human meat is tough on warriors.” She explained and cracked a grim grin.

Athenril wasn’t sure she should be relieved or terrified of the dwarf before her that she could make such a joke. Harlan frequently gave the threat of eating someone but Athenril had never had the unfortunate pleasure of witnessing it.

“She’s as bad as Harlan.” Brekker rasped. They’d had to gag him as he had screamed and complained the whole way and then some. His throat was more than raw. He lay across the table, arms and legs spread and tied to the table’s legs, keeping him from moving. He could turn his head but that was about it. He was ignoring the pain in his knee. “You at Harlan’s side. What a terrible pairing for Kirkwall.”

Selena flinched.

“As if Darktown wasn’t bad enough.”

She glowered and grabbed a piece of cloth and plunged it in water until it was dripping

“Maker, save the sorry sods-” His voice halted as she held

Grabbed three pieces of wood and created a makeshift table. She draped the cloth over the wood so it would drip constantly on his forehead. Pulling away, she meant to walk back but stopped and grabbed one of the cups, filled it with water and reset the cloth so half of it was in the cup and the half dripped onto him. She gave a small grin as the water drip-drip-dripped.

“What are you doing?” He glared.

Lena turned away, not answering. She removed the pot from the campfire and set it aside so it would cool enough to reach in and grab the knives. “Athenril, let’s step out for a moment.”

The elf in question had watched all this with no questions but now she was curious. “He could get loose if we stay out too long.”

“I redid the knots. I should teach you those knots. You can’t get them loose without restricting blood flow and potentially damaging your extremities.” Lena spoke with a pleasant smile and began out at a leisurely pace. Athenril unsure, followed her and looked back.

Brekker waited with bated breath until they were out.

_Drip._

He wrenched his wrists, initially not believing the dwarva’s words but as he twisted it did as she said it would.

_Drip._

It was too tight too quick. He cringed, stopping all movement.

_Drip-drip-drip._

He looked around, trying to see anything that he might be able to reach.

_Drip-drip._

Even the construct she had made was too far from his arms to try and knock over. His shoulders useless.

_Drip-drip-drip._

He tried moving his leg, but the pain had him grit his teeth.

_Drip._

His breath quickened, water dripping onto his eyes. He shook his head to rid it but the water kept dripping.

“Hey. Hey!” He called out.

_Drip._

“Athenril!”

_Drip-drip-drip._

“ATHENRIL?!” He cried out. The water continued to _drip-drip-drip._

_Drip._

He cried again and again, wanting someone, anyone.

_Drip._

No one answered him.

* * *

 

Lena sat crouched with her hands over her ears, singing. “75 bottles of beer on the wall, 75 bottles of beer, you take one down and pass it around. 74 bottles of beer on the wall. 74 bottles of beer on the wall, 74 bottles of beer. You take one down and pass it around. 73 bottles of beer-” She squinted, unsure of how much time has passed. She took her hands off, “Athenril how long has it-” She stopped altogether as she faced the elf who perched with her. The elf had also covered her ears to block out the screaming.

The night was silent. She listened carefully and heard faint sobbing. She tugged on Athenril’s sleeve and headed back for the cave. She wasn’t sure how long to leave it with the water dripping.

Quiet, she walked in, the piggly wiggly's body shaking and great heaving sobs wracked his body.

“Please, please make it stop.” He rasped. His lips bloody where he had torn at them, leg twisted and his hand turning a dark shade of purple where he had thrashed but only made his situation worse. Lena loosened the knots. His hand would not recover. She swallowed as she removed the cloth. Athenril came up behind her.

“Who is your contact?” Athenril asked, quietly.

“Let me go, please… please Athenril.” He sobbed, eyes red and lip quivering. “Don’t…. don’t leave me with _her_.” His eyes flicked to Lena but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Lena tilted her head, frowning but she walked away to the pot that was still warm, she grabbed the first knife.

Athenril tracked the dwarf as she moved, chilled by the methodical way she pulled each knife out and dried them, setting them on the clean cloth. Who was she?

“Just tell me who your contact is.” She turned back to Brekker, rubbing his other wrist.

“I-... I can’t.” Brekker shook his head.

“This can all end, mercifully if you just tell me. You’ll die with dignity.” Athenril pressed. For a moment it looked like he was ready to say something. Athenril leant forward, ready to receive the information but he faltered. She needed him to give him so she grasped at the only thing she had left. “Don’t you want your family to know you died a soldier’s death?” She’d hoped that would tip him over, give her all the information but panic and fear filled his gaze, he shook his head.

“No… no. I can’t. I won’t. You can’t make.” He spat blood at her, angry. She recoiled and glared.

“Looks like we might need that rodent now.” Lena spoke, her eyes blank as she came up. “You go find it while I try a more traditional method on it.”

Athenril looked at the knives, worried for a moment. But it was either Brekker or herself. Harlan wasn’t known to be kind when he learned of betrayers. “Don’t leave.” She threatened but the threat felt hollow when looking at the tame dwarva who hid a truly terrible beast behind those dark brown eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Selena watched the elf walked out of the cave and turned to the table where Brekker’s chest shook, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. She waited until the sound of the elf’s feet were gone. “Now that we’re alone. I’m pretty sure that hand is hurting you something awful, piglet. We’ll fix it up right away.”

She pulled the largest and sharpest sword off the table. Carpal bones were so small and fragile. With a tourniquet in place, she raised the sword. It took a few whacks, there was blood and curdling sounds. She had to pause and gag the piggy. Once done, she poured water over the bloody stump. He was pale and trembling. His eyes bloodshot and filled with tears.

She waited until he calmed before removing the gag. “Who is your contact?”

He never said. She pulled her fire enchantment dagger and pressed it against his stump. She gripped it tighter as it began to heat up, searing the flesh and cauterizing the wound. His scream rang in her ears. She pulled the knife off and then did it again and again until it was all sealed and then switched daggers, the cold soothing the burns. All the while she kept asking, “Who is your contact?” but he never budged.

She got tired, eyes weary. She took a break, gagging him and stepping away to sit at the campfire, staring at the fire. The crackling of burning wood lulled her into a light sleep. Lena was too scared to let herself truly fall asleep. For it wasn’t Baltier or Petrice she was scared of meeting in her dreams now, but rather...herself.

She drifted in and out until the sound of wood scraping on stone snapped her awake. Groggy and exhausted Lena hefted herself up, watching Athenril drag the pots. “What are you-” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

“I found a fennec fox.” The elf responded and she pointed tiredly at the cage where a tiny bundle of a fox shivered in a corner. “Harlan is on his way here.”

“What?!” Lena answered. “How do you know? And Why? It still hasn’t given us the information yet. What do we do?” She turned toward _it_ and he was pale skinned but breathing slowly, too slowly for her liking. She went to poke him and he stirred, groaning.

Athenril flinched. “I spotted their campfire last night. They’ll be here in hours… if not minutes. Get the information. I need to drag this lyrium out. It might be the only thing that might save me - _us_.” Athenril bumbled out as she hurriedly dragged the pots and boxes to the entrance, one at a time.

Lena watched Athenril and then looked at the fox in the wooden cage. It was cute, she hated what she was about to do to it. She really didn’t want to, but Athenril would kill her if she didn’t do it and if she didn’t Harlan certainly would. She gulped and grabbed the pot she had used. Donning her leather gloves, she grabbed the fox by the scruff of it’s neck. It squirmed and scratched at the leather. She placed it under the pot and on top of Brekker. The pot itself was heavy and didn’t move.

“You… hey. You. You need to give me the information. _Now._ ” She smacked his face, waking him up. “The fox won’t start trying to escape unless I apply heat. Tell me what I need to know.” She pressed with urgency.

Brekker’s gaze was hazy and then he raspily chuckled. “ - to die.”

She stilled as he chuckled more. “What?”

Brekker coughed and chuckled. “You’re not leaving.”

“What are you saying?”

“She’s going to kill you.”

“Athenril?”

His head nodded and he wheezed. “Kirkwall is her home. She’d never-” He wheezed and coughed. “-never let another monster in.”

“I’m not…a monster.”

“Aren’t you?” Brekker continued laughing.

Growling, Lena grabbed an ember from the campfire with tongs and dropped it on top of the pot. The heat transferring. “Just tell me what I want to know.”

“I can’t.” He coughed and frowned.

“Why the ever loving fuck not?”

“They’ll kill them.” He said, serious and grim. “They’ll find out and they’ll kill them. I can’t.” He winced and groaned. Lena could hear the frantic scratching of the fennec fox, though she couldn’t see it. “I have to- ugh - I have to protect them.”

“Who?”

“My family.” Brekker bit his tongue, hard, blood exploding in his mouth. Lena removed the pot, the fennec fox took off from the table and scampered out of the cave.

Her breath came in harsh and she stumbled back. She couldn’t. Turning around she faced the cave entrance to see Athenril there, with a torch and several of the boxes and pots of lyrium opened.

“Athenril, I… I couldn’t.” Lena sighed. “I’m sorry, there is only so far I can go I just… he won’t speak.”

“I know.” Athenril sighed.

“Lets just kill him and head back to Kirkwall.” Lena sighed. “He’s halfway dead anyway, can we just go. I can’t… I can’t be here anymore.”

“You’re not going back.” Athenril gulped. “I’m sorry Lena, he was right. I can’t have two Harlans in Kirkwall. One is enough.”

“Athenril?” Lena stepped but the elf dropped the torch into the pots of lyrium and took off as it sparked. Lena froze trying to remember exactly how explosive raw lyrium was but she didn’t have much time to ponder.

* * *

 

It took four hours too long for Varric, Denier, Harlan and crew to reach the site of the explosion. There was blue smoke. _Blue dusty smoke._

“Lyrium explosion!” Varric called out and the majority of them pulled out handkerchiefs and covered their mouths. Those that didn’t hung back.

“Varric! There’s a body!” Denier cried.  

 _Please let it be Lena._ Varric bustled forward into the dusty area. Harlan however darted past him toward what looked like a cave in, rocks and raw lyrium exposed and on fire. The closer Varric got to the body, the more his stomach sank. The body was too thin, too long and too _elfish_. He flipped her over.

“Athenril!” He growled. “Where is she?!” his voice raspy and hoarse with emotion. He pointed Bianca at her throat. She coughed, rousing and blinking. He shoved Bianca into her throat. He cocked the crossbow and asked again. “Where is she?”

“You better answer him knife ear, because once he’s done. You’ve got your dear ole pop to answer to.” Harlan appeared behind Varric, his wide toothy grin unpleasant and unsettling. It reminded Athenril of the very dwarf Varric was asking for.

“It was Brekker.” She rasped. “He… he blew us up. I got out. I don’t know where she is. She might… she might still be…” She trailed off and pointed toward the cave in. “All that lyrium…” She shook her head.

Varric hand’s shook but he pulled Bianca back. He walked away from them, leaving Athenril’s fate to Harlan. He didn’t stop walking until he was clear of the lyrium smoke.

“Varric…” Denier caught up to him.

“She’s gone.” he shook his head. He sighed, holding the handkerchief to his face still. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly, sharp breaths coming in. “Lyrium. _Raw_ lyrium, and the dust. She’d be stuck in there, exposed-” His breath became sharp. “She’d be _addled_ by lyrium consumption.” His shoulders shook as he took a heaving breath. “She’d never be the same.”

“This isn’t just about Lena is it?” Denier touched his friend’s shoulder.

“It is… but.”

“Your mother.” Denier pulled Varric into a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't want to read due to the potential triggering material? Here's a summary of the chapter: 
> 
> Lena and Athenril reach a cave at the top of Sundermount. Athenril is the thief, but as it turns out Viktor Baltier had been in on it as well along with their third member, Brekker. Lena is threatened by Athenril to find out who Brekker's contact was and the next lyrium shipment date or else she dies. It is either Brekker or Lena, Lena chooses herself. She adopts a persona, distances herself from Brekker's humanity and calls him a pig and it. She uses snaps one kneecap, uses rope torture combined with water torture for roughly 20 minutes and leaves him alone. His hand goes dark purple and he he goes slightly mad. He still won't give up. Lena cuts his damaged beyond repair hand off and then takes a break while she sends Athenril to find a rodent of some kind. She wakes to find Athenril stacking the lyrium at the entrance, saying she had spotted Harlan's campfire and they were on her way. Lena is pressed for time and uses rat torture. Brekker reveals he can't tell her because "they" would kill his family. Lena's humanity returns at that and stops. Just as she's about to leave, Athenril says she can't have "two Harlans" in Kirkwall and sets fire to the Lyrium, trapping Lena and Brekker in the cave. 
> 
> Varric arrives just in time to see the blue lyrium dust and explosion. He mourns because if Lena had survived the explosion, she'd be consuming lyrium and thus die of lyrium consumption and become addled. He finally breaks down because it is like losing his mother all over again. Denier comforts and hugs his friend.


	21. Tectonic Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning** : Hallucinations, Highs, Drugs.
> 
> Bellowing blues that slip sweet somber songs that chant a cadence of control.

A sharp intake of breath woke her. Not her own, for her own labored breathing was slow and constricted due to the sharp jagged edged rocks and debris pressed into her back and legs. A sharp pounding covered her head and pain throbbed on her back. The fall had knocked the wind from her, the cold crept across her skin. Aside from that she couldn’t feel anything. For all Lena knew, she was incapacitated.

Another breath followed by a whimper roused her again a moment, or perhaps much later. She wasn’t sure. The dark recesses around her were swimming. She couldn’t see. Was she blinded? She wheezed as her fingers twitched, feeling and movement returning. It was cold, too cold. The air moist and musty, a dank quality to what she lay against. Her body shivered.

It was wet below her. Wet and cold and hard. Her body wracked with quivers had rocks and debris shift and plonk into water, falling off her.

Correction. She can feel. Lena shifted her neck to see more but another whimper had her pause, with bated breath.

She was sinking. The water felt deeper each second but she remained above. She sunk and sunk, dread clawing inside her as she tried to see.

Another whimper. “Heel…” A sharp breath and she heard rustling. “Helll…” Something twisted inside her, guilt and her conscious twirling as she considered the possibility. Had she died? Was she in hell? If Hell existed, she certainly belonged. She'd never believed. She'd been agnostic atheist to a fault. Was she now doomed to an eternity of suffering? “Help.”

She wiggled her fingers again. Wet, cold, hard. She concentrated on those three feelings. She listened to her breath. When she was certain of them, of her existence among the living, she tried to look again. Rock scraped against her cheek and neck, warmth seeping against her as the sweet tangy smell of blood covered her.

Why was there no pain?

That was when the purring began. It rumbled low, echoing around the darkness, distant and distorted.

“Help.” The faint cry tried again, but she ignored it - him.

Selena tried again. Wet, cold, hard, hairy. No, that wasn’t right. Where did hairy come from?

A long hairy spindled leg pushed through the rocks over her. Sticky and greasy, it pulled out again and back in, scuttling and purring over her. It’s murmur a hum as it reached for her over and over.

It shrieked. Loud, cacophonous and jarring. Her body stiff and jolted, rocks slid away. Cold, wet, hard, and drafty. The hairy fled, scuttling, crawling, crippling her with fear and dread. A slimy milky trace back. It grew sticky under her fingers as she stretched and stretched it. Her eyes flew open.

It wasn’t dark, she wasn’t blind. Had her eyes been closed this entire time? The light that filtered in was an iridescent glowing blue that faded in waves. Particles, _dust_ , floated in the air. It too was blue, or perhaps it was colored such from the glow. The source of the celest bloom was from the rocks around her, on her, in front of her. They were interspersed with normal rock and were broken apart, their crystalline innards were ground and crushed into powder. She let out a shaky breath. The powder rose in a puff and carried up and into her lungs as she breathed in.

And breathed out. Breathed in. Breathed out.

 _Lyrium._ She should have been panicking, especially as the raw form touched her exposed skin, the Titan’s essence infecting her bleeding arm, where rocks had cut deep. But she found herself unable to adequately react.

“Help, please.”

The voice pleaded again and she turned, cringing again toward the sound. Another body, strewn about, legs twisted, warped, and burned like a gnarled branch. He too was covered in rocks, both stone and veiny. Their chest rose only on occasion, she strained to hear their breath but she only heard it when he called out again, whimpering.

How was she to help him when she could barely feel?

Breathed in. Breathed out. The dust flowed inside her.

Seconds, ticks, drips and blink- time passed. It felt like night, the sun was below and the sky so far and around. She was tall and short, new and old, ancient and reborn. She was as tall as a mountain, shifting and quaking beneath plates like sheets. Deep below and under ground where it was warm and hot.

“-please.”

The dust swirled and whirled. Breathed in. Breathed out.

The thump thump rumbling of her heart echoed around, pulsing deep inside her and under her. The best of the veins ran rushing, pumping and bleeding for so long until it slowed and dulled. A hollow echo as the pitter patter of a thousand rushing feet marched around, on top and underneath searching for something that slept. It dwelled in the south. Their corruption bled into her, tainting but she withstood. She knew she was dying so she had slept, slowing her descent. Now she was free. Rejoicing, so she sang.

* * *

 

When next she woke, she was no longer bound by fleshy chunks of earth, the stone no longer trapping her. She was so small. Smaller than she could remember but if she listened and closed her eyes she could feel herself, truly large and wide and tall, reaching toward the skies and the center of the world. She'd been stone, mineral, and metal held together by molten earth and heat. Yet now, she was made of meat.

She ground the crystals beneath her hands until they were dust. Crystals that used to be inside her. She observed her hands. Their pinkish digits and nails brittle and thin. They were weak yet when she closed her fists tight they left indents. Tighter still and she bled bloodstone tears. This meat was pitiful.

She sang sweet arias but she was too small, too tiny. Her voice was too quiet, a single infinitesimal voice in the abyss. This shape and form was weak but it's inner song was loud, almost overpowering as it fought and clawed all on her own. She was not ready to relinquish it yet.

This meat was ravenous. She forced more dust into the water and up- up until she breathed in and breathed out. She could hear the deep rumbling of her old heart, throbbing, thumping, and pumping. It quaked and quivered and called. The stone wept at her loss, but she was not gone. Not really.

Lena watched as she cupped her hands into bright cyan water. Her lips tingled and twitched as she drank. Lena could do nothing as it slipped down her throat, quenching the thirst and hunger. It had been too long.

“Please.” Her voice escaped between mouthfuls. “Stop.” She tries to stop her body but she drank, consumed, and guzzled until she was full, sated and energized. She watched the particles, glowing and bright in the air. Stretching and breathing, she reached a fleshy arm and the one below made the ground quake and tremble.

Celeste rivlets pulsed beneath her skin, stitching and fixing. Soon she would be bigger, stronger and her lilt would echo. A new city, a new land. Where were her creations? They would hear her voice, they would hear the old hymn of their people. They would come _._

“ - please you have to help, _my family._ ”

Lena stumbled aware and clawed across the rocks to it. _No. Him._ She climbed and perched staring down. The lyrium surrounding them made her flinch but the man. What was his name? He was twitching. Dark blue veins webbing across his neck. She tracked it and saw the exposed bloody stump where she had hacked his hand off, lyrium leeching into him. He twitched and his lips slackened, drool dripping.

“Please.” He slurred, eyes unfocused as he looked around. Lena’s stomach churned and churned. She forgot to breathe as she stared him in the eyes. He was dying. He was dying and she had made him suffer.

She choked with sobs and coughed. Lyrium puffed and whirled. The rumbling and purring grew louder. Skittering and scraping as the song echoed. Bile rose in the back of her throat. The call intense and fevered. Lena blinked and slumped.

She drank of the water again. More. Must stay. Must become more and taller. This meat was weak but her verse was strong. It would not be silenced so easily. The meat’s will cried and yelled, fueling each counter note. She did not wish to descend. She turned her back on the whimpering flesh. It would die soon enough.

* * *

 

 _No. Him_. Came the rebellious cry, it chanted and clanged until she was drowned out.

Lena gasped and clung to herself. She fought _herself_ and clung to the dying man. “Brekker.” She shook him, waking him. “Your family?” She rasped, exhaustion tearing at the edges of her stamina. “What do you mean your family?” She managed to say coherently, watching as he twitched and snapped to but faded. He mumbled the name of a town and the name of a city, once, twice and then a mantra until she shook him again.

“Do they live there?” She shook him, staring him down. He didn’t register her face and Lena feared he was becoming addled. “Do they live there?”

“No… no.”

“Then why?”

“Crowns in a box - field.” He whispered. “For family. Please…” He sobbed. Lena freed his good hand and he grasped hers. “Promise. Need to know. I-if you survive.”

“If I survive.” Lena nodded. Large hairy things skittered around them. She was certain if the lyrium did not take her, they would. But comforting the dying soul was more important.

“What field?” She asked him but he faded in and out, mumbling nonsense words. “What field?!” She pressed and he stared past her, trying to remember something but he couldn’t for the words.

“Pocket….” He managed, but his jaw slackened and he twitched away. Lena reached into his pocket, a wooden amulet with some kind of crest. She couldn’t make it out in the dark but she could feel it, the hum and call of an enchantment.

She stayed with him, clanged inside her head so as not to hear the song that would make her sleep. The lyrium ate at his mind. He mumbled more and more. Gibberish and strings of words that made no sense and then it was nonsense words quickly followed by him speaking in tongues. One word -or name- stuck out amidst the mass. He repeated it over and over until she could take no more. His suffering and pain was too much. She granted him mercy where previously she’d had none. She covered his mouth and nose until he was silent.

It was mercifully quiet but Lena was now alone. Alone with the rumbling. Alone with the skittering hairy things in the dark that shrieked and purred. She sat amidst the lyrium and gazed up into the void. Lena recalled the explosion.

_Bright blue and orange flames burst from the boxes. Ceramic shards went flying, she only had enough time to throw herself to the ground but the force of the explosion sent her smacking against the cave wall where she watched as the entrance was blocked by falling stone. The cave shook and trembled. The ground began to chip and snap until it slipped away in chunks below. She  remembered Brekker so she tried to free him._

_The world fell away under them before she could do much else for him or herself. He fell, fast and bashing against rocks. Legs arms, the table broke under him freeing him but he would not be walking again. Further and speedily they fell and she followed him into the dark shaft, reaching with one hand to grab him. If they were to die she didn't want to die alone. His eyes spoke the same in the dim fleeting light._

_Tucking her chin to her chest, she protected herself as she fell. The air whizzed past loud and the fire that had spread calmed. But as she got closer to the end, the lyrium bright and blue her descent slowed as something hot flared between her breasts. Shakily she eyed the necklace as she felt as light as a plume. The Hawke may have slowed their descent but it did not protect them from the rocks._

_They weren't buried but a layer blanketed them. Battered bruised and broken they lay. Too tired, too exhausted and finished. They waited for death but it would only find one of them._

Clutching the locket, she added it to her necklace with shaky fingers. A silent promise in the dark. She checked Brekker’s other pockets. A coin purse and a slip of parchment, she slipped them into her own pockets as the song returned. It tore at the edges of her, Lena shook her head to clear it. Hypnotic and lethargic, it lulled and soothed her nerves. She fought it. _Away… away from the lyrium._ She fell, scraping her hands and knees as she crawled forward. The veins and dust was endless around her. Eyes watching her from the dark. It was their shrieks that halted her. Met with dripping pincers and the bulbous abdomen puffed out behind it, making it appear bigger as it concentrated on her with eight large eyes and it’s hairy body twitched and jerked its spindled limbs. The crawlers that creaked around it were smaller.

The damp cold of the shaft sent shivers up her spine as their screeches echoed. It fought off the hymn even as she tossed herself back onto the lyrium. Lena was stuck. Spiders, large and monstrous surrounded her, glowing eyes staring into the center lying in wait for her to get close. But the lyrium was just as hazardous.

She was tired. So tired of fighting, she just wanted to go home. She wanted...she wanted… her eyes drooped and blinked shut.

* * *

 

Lena watched as the lyrium crystal shattered inside the husk of the queen crawler. It’s form thrice as large as the others. Its blue-blue blood dripped. Her hands tore a leg out and meat unbound by bones dribbled out. Her mouth watered but her mind yelled, _No no!_ It’s death rattling shrieks echoed and jangled inside her, fighting the song.

Heaving, she stumbled away from the dead queen. The darkness of the cavern was no issue as she spotted the hordes, the hive of spiders watching her but not moving. She lay in the center clutching the lyrium crystal like a blade. She glared at it and dropped it, crushing it.

“Away… away from the lyrium.” She stopped breathing, held her breath and ran. Where, she did not know but she had to get away. Lena needed to be far from the lyrium before she lost time again, before the tune dragged her down and made her the mountain’s puppet.

When her lungs burned, did she exhale and take a sharp inhale, holding it as she ran again. Lena had half expected the spiders to give chase and attack as she was not fast. They did follow her, but stopped when she stopped and slowed when she slowed.

“Back!” She yelled but her voice was _wrong_. It purred and trilled. Something was in it. The spiders scuttled back away but they remained close. Her throat tightened and clenched as she stumbled and covered her mouth. It wasn’t her voice. It was melodious and hummed silent arias.

Sinking, she gave up and lay still as the call came over her. Her own flesh and bone moved with the song. She observed her hands, watching as the thing inside her tore at the spiders with lyrium blades and drank it’s meat and sang, sweet - somber calls for the others. The spiders drew closer, twitching, fearful and hunched low, fighting the melody. She commanded them closer to their deaths.

Lena grit her teeth. “NO!” Her voice echoed as she snarled and spun. Lena found herself where it was frigid. Blue eyes glowed in the dark at her, watching her. “Who are you?!” She shouted but the eyes were still, unblinking. She focused on them, their form taking shape in the dark. She hid peeking out but the eyes remained. They burned and brightened, blinked when she blinked and turned when she turned.

The figure approached, slow and steady. Wet footsteps, cold puffs of breath stained the air. They stood before her, staring. Those glowing orbs that burned. She reached out with her left hand and they with their right. Lena stilled and touched the glacial surface. It was smooth, reflective. She stared at a stranger.

Mangled hair that hung limp, the iridescent eyes, and cracked glowing skin. Lena’s lips quivered, head shaking. Enraptured by the woman in the ice, she was taken by the lulling tones within her.

“Puvyq bs fgbar naq frn, tnmre bs fxvrf, jvryqre bs entr. Lbh ner gur qrfpraqnag bs Byq, ornevat bs n erfbyhgr jvyy. Jvguva zl qbznva, znepu gb zl fbat, qevax bs zl oybbq naq erfg.” The woman in the ice spoke, deep and guttural, like rocks grating and scraping. Lena couldn’t understand but the words repeated, webbed veins glowing in her hand as she caressed the ice.

“Stop it.” Her wrong voice whispered. Her hands slapped over her ears as the singing ascended and echoed in her. “STOP IT!” She cried, pressing against her ears. “STOP IT! STOP! STOP STOP STOP!” She needed to drown it out, combat against it. Sounds. She stomped around and kicked rocks, it disturbed each rippling note. And then she sang, the sound traveling through her bones, reverberating and deep. She sang the first thing that came to mind.

“OH I WISH I WERE I WERE AN OSCAR MEYER WEINER.” She bubbled with laughter at the lyrics but when she stopped the song grew louder. She swallowed and began anew “That is what I truly wish to be cause if I were an oscar mayer weiner, everyone would be in love - oh everyone would be in love - everyone would be in love with me…” She sang it again and again, blocking out the earth’s cadence. When it quieted, she stopped singing and looked around her for the source, but the icy cavern was empty save for her. The spiders had not followed _her_ here.

The only light was her, where she walked she glowed. The wall of ice was thick and made the cavern appear bigger than it was. She tracked the wall and found where she had come from, or she hoped.

Lena followed the winding tunnels, some deep sense telling her where to go. All the while she sang the jingle until she came across a ravine. There was a crack far up above letting in light but she could neither tell if it was night or day. She turned back.

Her muscles were sore, her stomach ached, and she felt ill but there was a surging energy beneath her skin that drove her. She only took a break from singing to drink water dripping from the ice, soothing her throat and stomach. The humming rumble of pure silence was comforting, nothing but the pulsing of her blood in her ears. Lena thought - hoped - she had drove it away so she took a moment, examined herself.

She still had her necklace of plume, with the added amulet from Brekker. The slip of parchment and coin purse. Her trousers, shirt, and boots were blackened from the explosion and she imagined her hair was a mess. But what was most worrisome was her skin. There were no scars, no open wounds, not like there should be given her descent and fall.  Instead there were cracks in her skin where the lyrium pulsed in waves. It rippled with each heartbeat, a heartbeat she did not recognize.  Her palpitations all but soothed and calmed with no skipping of a beat.

To add to her worried, her skin glistened with sweat that glittered. “Look ma, I’m Edward fucking Cullen, I glitter and glow blue.” She laughed, bitter and sobbed. “I’m blue - haha. I'm blue da ba dee da ba die,” she sobbed and laughed, and then cackled. The sound echoed around her. Even her tears glowed and glittered. The lyrium so entrenched in her system. She lapsed into silence for too long.

“Fuck…” she groaned as the melody began, her hands clapped over her ears. “STOP IT!” She squeezed her eyes shut and began belting lyrics. “Yo listen up here's a story about a little guy that lives in a blue world and all day and all night and everything he sees is just blue like him inside and outside. Blue his house with a blue little window and a blue corvette and everything is blue for him and himself. And everybody around. 'Cause he ain't got nobody to listen to…” She scrambled up as _her_ singing was drowned out.

She had to keep moving, she had to find a way out. If not for herself, then for Brekker’s family. “I'm blue da ba dee da ba die…” She repeated the song as she traced her way through and back caverns and tunnels. Some sense leading her back the way she came as though she could feel the way.

Lena came across the spiders’ den. She stilled as the arachnids sensed her but neither reacted nor attacked. The corpse of the larger one that _she_ had killed remained, as with the others. She would have liked to loop back and avoid this particular cavern but all other passages had been dead ends. The only tunnels she hadn’t explored connected here. Though in other tunnels and dead ends she had found old webs and spider sacs, emptied, dusty, and forgotten. There were spider exoskeletons left behind, dried and easy to crack open. She managed to pilfer through the remains finding belt buckles, daggers, coins, and what looked like half torn and half digested trousers. Amidst some of the more human remains leathers, cloth, furs, a water skin, long abandoned backpacks with cloth rotted. She found a half rotted wooden stave, crates, barrels and boxes. She searched everything she came across using herself as a light source.

Staring into the spider nest, she stepped in carefully and slow. “Spiderman, Spiderman…” Of course the most inappropriate - or perhaps appropriate - of songs would come to her now. “Does whatever a spider can. Spins a web, any size, catches thieves just like flies. Look Out! Here comes the Spiderman,” she sang as she reached the center. None of the spiders disturbed her, though a few of the smaller ones crawled over her boots as she dodged hanging webs and large objects trapped in silk, she didn’t want to think what was inside those. All the while she refrained from shrieking and kicking the smaller arachnids, afraid to anger any of the larger ones.

She would have continued past the large spider but she was curious about something with all the hanging web around. Using a pilfered dagger that hung at her waist, she cut open it’s abdomen by its spinners and eyed the spider’s milk. Dipping the dagger into the milk she stretched it. It began to harden the moment it stretched, the proteins aligning. She meant to pull a single string out, create twine and then rope from it but movement caught the corner of her eyes. Large white bubble like sacs that moved. Tiny black spindly legs poking through and trying to get out as they shivered and shifted. There were dozens of tiny sacs on the spider’s back.

“Oh no,” she dreaded what it might be.  “Dear god please don’t be-” One of them burst open and a small slimy spiderling crawled out. “ _Oh no_.” Soon the rest of them began popping out of their sacs. She slapped her hand over her mouth as a swarm of them began eating the corpse of its dead mother. She screamed into her hand and shook, stumbling back. The dagger dropped to the floor with a clatter as her breath heaved.

She stumbled away from the swarm that consumed the meat in the dead spider, leaving only its stomach contents and exoskeleton behind. Lena’s anxiety and fear was at an all time high when something hairy brushed against her. Lena jerked away at the close proximity of one of the larger older spiders, when another brushed against her. Her heart banged against her ribcage and she shivered.

“They are going to _eat_ me,” she whispered, curling into herself to hide. More and more hairy twitching spiders brushed against her when the deep rumbling purr surrounded her. Warmth and slimy goo covered her as their palps ran along her neck and back.

“Ugh gross…” She murmured confused as none of the spiders seemed to attack her. No pincers or venom injected or _spat_ , as she recalled some spiders did that in Thedas. Instead their palps ran along her exposed back, their husks purring and their legs clicking created a soothing beat that calmed her. It was a song of its own, deep and chiming. Lena wasn’t sure how long it went on but she knew it was too long when the guttural harmony inside her rose up trying to clasp control.

She began singing with the spiders again to fight the serenade. “Oh this is the song that never ends! Cuz it goes on and on my friends! Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they’ll continue singing it that’s only just because…” The beat to the song were simple and easy, the words repeating. She sang it slow so as not to tire herself. It disrupted and disturbed the lyrium’s song. Over and over she sang it, for minutes? Hours? She wasn’t sure but long enough the spiders had wandered away from her. She wiped at the goo at her neck and came away with spider silk. She scrunched her nose, intent on wiping it on the ground when something unusual happened. The lyrium’s rhythm changed. It _matched_ the tune she sang and she felt herself drifting, eyelids closing.

* * *

 

The stone was hard and coarse against her fingertips. Sharp edges leaked rosy sap that left the meat weaker. She had to make it stronger. She needed more lyrium, more stone, more worker drones. Her voice lifted high and bellowed low, the only things that could hear were eight legged beasts that feared her essence. They stayed far away but they could not refute her call. They would do, for now.

“Urne zl pubve, sbe V orpxba gurr, oevat zr veba naq gbbyf bs guerr.” With arms extended she sung to the crawlers. Her cadence low and chirping, reaching the frequencies that made them twitch, bodies pushed low. They fought, oh they _always_ fought, but she was stronger in voice. Though the meat’s chords were inadequate to reproduce her true song - they would suffice until she could make this meat more. They left at her command, she could feel them work and toil the caverns and tunnels. Where they went, so too did her song, it spread and called more. She would have an army, a legion at her command and then she would find her people, her kin and children of stone. She would rise again, no longer forced to sleep.

* * *

 

Lena snapped awake when a crashing rumble disjointed _her_ song.  Quickly Lena belted out any song. “What's new, Pussycat? Whoa, whoa.” She sang it exactly seven times. She knows because she counted and quickly followed it up with, “It's not unusual to be loved by anyone…” She giggled - still terrified, but through most of it she could barely form each word. The lyrium and _her_ could not match her disjointed singing if she changed it. She switched back and forth from both songs. She sang to drive the hum away, to drown it out and remain herself. Her voice wasn’t hers but she would not let the mountain have her, not again. For the cadence was not auditory, it rang in her blood and in her head. She droned out words and lyrics, anything _anything_ to quiet the storm raging that surged.

When Lena felt the dulcet tones taking over she switched. “It’s Friday, Friday. Gotta get down on Friday Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend.” She used to hate herself for knowing the lyrics but it was handy as the song was dull and broke up the lyrium’s song. “So la da di da di. We like to party, dancing with Molly, doing whatever we want. This is our house. This is our rules and we can't stop. And we won't stop. Can't you see it's we who own the night? Can't you see it's we who 'bout that life?” She muttered, hands pressed to her ears. “And he waddled away, and he waddled away, till the very next day.” Lena wailed. “Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down.” She rickrolled herself multiple times. “Narwhals, narwhals, swimming in the ocean. Snake, it’s a snaaaakkke.” She huffed but sang different tunes. She wished she could remember the lyrics to songs she actually liked instead of these nuisances and annoyances that jingle jangled in her head. They will forever be branded into her head.

There were less spiders in the den, she noted. The older spiders moved out of her way as she walked around keeping count of the tunnels she had come from. The smaller newborn spiders trailed after her as she sang. At first they swarmed and stopped but when she stopped and stared at them they formed something a bit more organized.

 _Curious._ Squinting, she switched it up. “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah.” She spread her fingers out and made lines in the air. “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah,” she marched backwards watching the spiders inch closer slowly but in a disarrayed mess. She tried again. “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah hurrah?” She wasn't sure what she expected but the spiders didn’t do anything special. They just followed after her.

“Well that was anti-climatic.” She frowned, then glowered at the spiders still following her. “Itsy bitsy spiders.” She clicked her tongue and the spiders drew back. “Squawk?” She clicked and cooed like a bird and some of the larger older spiders shivered and retreated from her. “Hoho. Scared of bird sounds eh?” She refrained from making bird sounds, incase it caused them to be less docile. Lena drank from the water skin. She ventured back to the dead queen spider and noted there were some egg sacs that hadn’t hatched. She poked them and they sagged. Another one she poked and it poked back but didn’t hatch. “Why are you still in there?” She switched to speaking with a singsong quality, if only to give her mind and throat a break.

She left it alone and took one of the tunnels. It was long, winding down.  The sound of silence began to fill up, not with singing but rather with a rumble, rushing and crashing.  Her legs ached, her feet were pinched in her boots but she walked faster down the tunnel. It was at the end of a long winding way down that she found the source of the rumble. It was a deafening waterfall that fed into a large underground lake. And it was _warm_. Heat and moistness pervaded the air as she walked in and breathed deep. She couldn’t hear herself think much less talk.

It was glorious.

She stayed silent, minutes, an hour, she wasn’t sure but the lyrium’s song couldn’t reach her conscious while here. She sighed, the physical act of her chest heaving the only sign. The rocky shore of the lake extended around with many - _many_ more tunnels. She marked them in her head and returned back to the one she came from.

There was rotted wood from caravans long abandoned. Had dwarves once been here?  Had humans? She didn’t care, it was relatively safe, and it blocked out the song. She tried to make a fire, but the wood would not catch. It was enough though, so she found a jutting rock and placed her bag down. She felt safe enough to sleep.

* * *

 

Athenril rasped against the floor as Harlan dug his heels into her back. He gripped her hair and pulled her up until her back arched. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out, my little rabbit?”

“No-” She cringed as the force around her neck tightened.

“I didn’t say you could speak.” Harlan’s voice darkened as he held his hand out. He didn’t need a staff to practice. Chuckling, he sent a blast at her leg where it twisted and snapped unnaturally. “I raised you, and this was how you repay me.”

“Sorr-” She cried out as Harlan twisted his hand in the air, his favored dagger cut through her shoulder, blood dripping down and splattering but it rose in the air as the power became thick.

“Not as sorry as you will be,” his voice echoed and his eyes glowed red. “You better hope my men are able to find their way to the tunnels.” He chuckled low and dangerous. “Or you’re going to wish you’d died at the explosion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather than attempt to create some sort of Ancient Dwarvhen Language to have the Titan speak to Lena, I just encoded what it was saying using rot13. Because Lena isn't supposed to understand what it is saying but I didn't want to not put it out there. So below is the translations for those that are curious.
> 
>  _Puvyq bs fgbar naq frn, tnmre bs fxvrf, jvryqre bs entr. Lbh ner gur qrfpraqnag bs Byq, ornevat bs n erfbyhgr jvyy. Jvguva zl qbznva, znepu gb zl fbat, qevax bs zl oybbq naq erfg._ \- Child of stone and sea, gazer of skies, wielder of rage. You are the descendant of Old, bearing of a resolute will. Within my domain, march to my song, drink of my blood and rest.
> 
>  _Urne zl pubve, sbe V orpxba gurr, oevat zr veba naq gbbyf bs guerr._ \- Hear my choir, for I beckon thee, bring me iron and tools of three.


	22. Arachnid Aberrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dances with Spiders, or How to Train your Giant Arachnids: Acclimation and Association.

Unsurprisingly, she didn't sleep well. Lena was frightened of the lake and what may be lurking within but that wasn't what prevented her from sleeping. It was her dreams, or rather lack thereof. Either she wasn't remembering them or something had happened - changed. She was hoping she just wasn't remembering them. 

The lyrium glow was less vibrant on her skin, a welcome change right up until when she relieved herself in a corner and came away flummoxed and horrified. Nothing quite like glowing blue piss and glowing blue shit to make her realize exactly how much lyrium  _ she  _ had ingested and for how much time to have passed for it to affect her excretions in such a manner. Then again her sweat and tears were still entrenched in lyrium. 

Lena grabbed a half rotted staff from her pile of booty and stuck it right in her excretions pile smearing the shit all over the end of it. It would certainly be a welcome replacement for a torch that she can extend out to see things her body glow and glitter couldn’t light up. 

She packed up her bag of looted goods and went to the lake’s shore, washed up, and refilled her water skin. Then she ventured down the tunnels again. The rumbling of the waterfall faded and she was surrounded by silence once again, at least until her stomach rumbled. She’d found blue tipped mushrooms in one of the other tunnels from earlier. Not glowing blue, but it left her a little worried so she had left them. Now though, she was considering it. “If anything, I should have them on me.” Lena nodded as doubled back. She passed through the outer edge of the lake and continued back to the spider’s den. 

She encountered the tunnel that would lead back to Brekker’s body. When she’d been exploring she’d found it and with a promptness chose not to go down it. But, as she hadn’t heard the mountain’s song and Lena had an obscure sense of curiosity, she ventured into it. There he was, as she had left him. Though he was looking quite bloated. With a driving curiosity she checked his pockets, she remembered she hadn’t exactly been in her right mind when she’d done it the first time. She carefully checked his boots finding another slip of parchment that she stored. Lena meant to also check his waist but the smell got to her, not to mention she felt the lyrium dust puff up with each movement. 

Stumbling out of the lyrium grave, she headed toward one of the tunnels she recalled the mushroom being in. She broke them off. They didn’t smell bad, or particularly poisonous. She rubbed a bit of them on her wrist, hoping she wasn’t allergic as she picked them and dropped them into a cloth before storing most of them in her bag. As she came across various different kinds, she rubbed them on her wrist and stored them. Hopefully none of them would be bad for her. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be underground or even if she would find a way out - though Lena refrained from thinking along those lines - but she’d need something to eat eventually or else she’d starve. 

Some time later she took a break. If she had to guess it’d been hours. Sipping water, she tossed out the junk and most of the copper coins. Only because they were the heaviest things but she kept the silver and the few sovereigns, the sharpest of daggers on her belt and all the bundles of cloth. Her bag was lighter. She ventured to the spider’s den to find it empty. Mostly empty. 

The webs were abandoned, the hanging clusters of spider silk also mostly empty. How long had she slept for? The dead queen spider still remained and there was only one egg sac left and it looked too small to have a proper sized spider like the rest. She poked it, it poked back. She picked up the egg sac and slipped it into her pocket. Then she looked around the den, an idea formulating.

Using her dagger she cut the forgotten webs down, silk nests and all sorts of spiders webs. The spider silk gland in the queen was long hardened but this stuff was already formed into string. She didn’t care to clean it but she twined it and made it into rope sections. Who knew when she’d need silk rope. The tensile strength would be phenomenal, or so she hoped. It had to have taken her hours to do, but she hummed under her breathed. If only slightly worried about the song, though she hadn’t heard it for some time. 

She checked her wrist with the glow of the shit on a stick. Either she would starve or she’d die of poisonous mushrooms. She ate one. The consistency left her gagging, but she washed it down with water. A  _ lot  _ of water. Lena chugged her water skin and still felt thirsty. She’d need to refill her water skin again and soon. Or rather  _ now.  _ She was really thirsty. 

Using only her glow she found the ice cavern and had the water skin collect dripping water. She drank it as fast as she collected. Her throat was sandpaper. She needed more water. 

She licked the ice wall. Her reflection a ghostly blue image. It was not her face, not her eyes, not her skin, lips, hair, or body. Not what she was used to and certainly not what she wanted to see. But she was so thirsty. Too thirsty to feel herself quiver from the cold and too thirsty to realize she was seeing double. Waves came off her in pulses, timed to the thud thud thud of her heart. Each lick on the ice yielded relief until the scratchiness came back. 

“Ugh… so heavy.” She slurred. “Shouldna eaten shrooms.” She mumbled, her tongue heavy like yellow in her throat as she licked the dry cold wall. Her skin came alive, each sweat droplet electrified in blue spikes as she stared at it. Cosmic melodies swirled in each droplet. She shook her hands, watching the lyrium beneath her skin pulse in aural waves around her. “So blue…” She awed and sat in the midst of the cavern, staring deep at her fingernails. Crescent indents in her palms bled blue crystal infused blood. 

“Why am I bleeding lyrium?” She questioned, calling out to the ceiling of the cavern. It was blue as well, or maybe it was because she was blue. “So much blue.” She slurred. “Like the sky… Like a blue sky. Like Mr. Blue Sky.”

“I miss the great big sky, miss the deep dark crawling sucking ocean, and the rain pit-pit-patter against the window. How long have I been here?” She crawled across the floor, ignoring the way her scraped hands bled everywhere, leaving a glowing slug trail behind her. “Hmmm water, liquid. Thirsty. Ice is so cold.” She crawled and crawled, sniffing and she came across a blue puddle that was bright and glowing blue. 

“No, haha. Almost got me.” She tutted and splashed at the lyrium water. “Its warm though.” She frowned as the dust made her sneeze and breathe it in. “A little bit can’t hurt, right?” She knelt down, lapping at the water. “Ruff ruff. Lap lap like a dog. Grrruffff!” She splashed the water again and slipped. She fell in. The puddle was a lot deeper than she thought. Lena flailed as she sunk. “What am I doing? I know how to swim. Fookin shrooms.” Her voice spoke, but no water flooded her mouth. Her brows furrowed but she shook her head. Her arms flapped great big monarch butterfly wings. They were orange and pretty. No more blue. She was glad, so glad she giggled and flapped them wider and wider. 

She flew up and up but she didn’t break the surface of the water. The water became thicker and blacker, even her own light wasn’t enough to penetrate the darkness. For a long time she floated in dark black water, able to breathe. “Where am I?” She called out, but it was muted and traveled nowhere but into her. The words stitched across her skin, carved by tiny creepy fingernails. A pink rabbit-pig thing squealed, she kicked it. It squealed again and left her in the shadows. 

A faint light in the distance had her moving forward. Instead of swimming, she was walking, slow and steady. But she was on the ceiling, hair hanging up or was it down? 

The light was  _ green _ and became brighter the closer she got to it. As she entered Lena found herself surrounded by strange slime. It bubbled the closer she got to it. Her blue glow and it’s green glow mingling, until she poked it. Her finger hissed, steam rising as it blistered. She couldn’t feel it. “Whaa.” She stumbled away. The slime slid across the floor toward her. “No… no no.” She fumbled and turned back the way she came. She ran until the rumble drowned around her. It came from behind. When had she gotten so turned around? 

“Where… where am I?” She mumbled and stumbled as a river appeared before her. “I am so high…” Lena peered over the edge toward dark water. She could see the outlines of the shore but nevermore. Her eyes fracked where the waterfall crashed into the lake. She looked forward as the glowing slime was coming, closer and brighter. 

“One small step for dwarva?” She snickered and jumped back over the waterfall. Two seconds later she realized how dangerous that was but she splashed into warm waters with no rocks in her way. The dark abyss of the water had her throat tighten. She swam quickly in any direction until she found a shore. Soaked to the bone, she shivered, tears dripping and joining her as she did not sit still. 

“I want to go home.” Sniffing, she stumbled through familiar tunnels. Purring and a guttural song coming over her. “Please… just help me go home.” She pleaded, not attempting to fight as she let the song wash over her. But it did not seize control, so Lena kept moving. 

The purring grew louder, tap tap tapping and scratching joined the cacophony of sounds. She walked into a colossal cavern than she’d ever seen and it was filled with spiders, scuttling and - Lena blinked. “I am so fucking high.” They were  _ dancing _ , or it looked like it. Spiders surrounded larger ones, their front legs raised in the air and back legs tap-tap-tapping a rhythm as they moved from side to side. 

Perhaps Lena had been spending too much time with the spiders because to anyone else it would have sounded like a ruckus but to her she could hear an underlying beat, their own song. She walked further into the cavern, some of them backed away from her when she drew near, bodies low, as though afraid up until she didn’t make the same sounds and singing as  _ her _ and they simply kept their distance. It was fine with her, these spiders were  _ huge -  _ bigger than the one that had been slain in the other room and they were  _ scared _ of her. That made her feel better, although given the fact people and animals usually attack the things they are scared of, she was glad for the distance. It was better to be here with the spiders, because at least she wasn’t alone. Even if her only company was large possible carnivorous arachnids. 

The tap-tap-tap of their little dances had her bobbing her head along, though it was disjointed. For some it was tap-tap-taptaptap-tap, others it was taptap-tap-taptap, or sometimes it was a tap-taptap-tap-taptap beat, each type of spider seemed to have their own dance they did. She couldn’t recognize the types of spiders.  There was brownish ones, some with large bulbous yellow abdomens, the slick black ones that looked more like scorpions with no bristles, the fuzzy spotted grey and black ones, then there were the unusual spiders that had dots lining their abdomen and legs that glowed. It was bioluminescent striped that glowed green, blue, yellow, even orange. There were large very fuzzy, almost shaggy, spiders that reminded her of tarantulas and even tall spindly spiders with thin legs like daddy long legs. The bigger the spider the less tap-tap their movements seem and the more it seemed to thud on the floor. There were really quick dancing spiders that hopped with each of their taps. She tapped her foot along to one of the hopping ones. It stopped and about faced her. 

“Uhh,” She stopped but the spider approached her and gave a great jump until it landed right in front of her.  Lena stumbled back, fear making her scuttle away but it didn’t continue toward her but rather did the tap again and then waited. “Um,” she mumbled and it did the tap again and its front legs and palps raised up as though waiting saying “Your turn.”  

“You’re fucking kidding me.” She tapped her foot once then did two quick ones. The spider hopped in place twice and did the tap back, adding another tap and once again waited. “Is this… am I. I am going  _ insane _ , if I’m  _ dancing with spiders. _ ” She gaped at the spider, which hopped repeatedly back and forth. It looked like it was impatient. Lena sighed and shrugged, once again taping to the beat, following the steps  it laid out.

They exchanged taping until Lena couldn’t follow it but the spider kept hopping, jumping around her. “Cosmos! You win!” She rasped and slumped against the wall just as the jumping spider crawled closer to her. Lena stilled as it’s palps and dripping pincers got very close. Her fight or flight response buffered as she realized she was trapped anyway and fighting a giant arachnid the size of a pig was not exactly in her favor. In the end the spider ran it’s palps over her face and purred, rubbing it’s lower body against her. 

Tentatively she reached a hand out and pet what would be it’s head, avoiding it’s eyes. The purring grew stronger and the spider’s eyes  _ closed. _ Spiders do not have eyelids, at least  _ normal _ spiders from Earth did not. She gaped as the spider folded it legs and settled half of its weight on her legs as she pet it, the purring becoming more pronounced. 

“Ooooh-kay.  Mark this as as one of the top ten weirdest things Thedas has let me experience.” Lena muttered as she pet the spider, the others in the cavern still dancing about. The beat disjointed but she swears she could recognize a beat. Lena didn’t get up right away, if only because the jumping spider wouldn’t get off her until she made motions to get up.  It stuck close to her after that though, following close and trying to get her hand back to petting it. “You’re so Happy.” Lena huffed but gave it more pets and scratches. When she scratched it however, the spider practically mauled her to get her to scratch certain parts of it. “Okay - down - down boy… girl? Er…” Lena eased the spider back and continued trying to find the beat. 

“I swear I know that song.” She mumbled as she came upon the taping. It was a cluster of spiders, with one very large one that reminded her of a tarantula. It’s legs more thudding against the floor than tapping. She tried to tap to the song as well but when she did the spiders stopped. They turned and seemed to consider her. “Wait.  Don’t stop.” She raised her hand and tapped again. “You just gotta… move your feet.” She slid her booted feet across the stone and taped three beats. 

“This would be better with singing.” Lena grumped. She didn’t know what was stopping her, it wasn’t like anyone was watching her. “Ya know what, fuck it.” 

“Don't stop, can't stop the feet.” Licking her lips she tapped the beat from memory. She’d never been musically inclined but this was an easy beat. “Won't stop, won't stop the beat and go.” She spun in place and faced the jumping spider, she mentally referred to as Happy. It looked like it was considering her feet and then it tapped out her beat. “Oh good! Join me Happy.” She snorted, rolling her eyes but felt the music in her. If she was going to die may as well do everything she ever wanted to. “Won't stop, won't stop the beat and go!”  She sang and tapped it out. She stopped however when she sensed the looming spider behind her. 

“Er…”  it was the tarantula looking one.  She gulped as it stopped behind her, eyes staring deep into her. For the longest moment it did nothing and then one of it’s legs thud-thud a beat. Happy behind her scuttled closer, purring. 

Staring into the larger spider, Lena nodded. “Okay. We gon do this. We gon do it right, ya see hombre. I use to sing and dance in private. Thought I was a badass. Used to imagine myself on Dancing with stars and that I was  _ totally _ pitch perfect.  Please disregard that I am tone deaf of course.” Lena grinned. ”So…”  

“Don't stop, can't stop the feet. Won't stop, won't stop the beat and go!”  She hummed and danced. “Everybody, move your feet and feel united.”  She belted out, lifting her hands and waved them.  “Oh oh oh! Everybody, move your feet and feel united! Oh oh oh, yeah!” 

Unfortunately for Lena, when she sang her voice was  _ still _ wrong but instead of the fearful tones of the lyrium song singing through her, this was downright pleasant.  The entire cavern of spiders stopped dancing and Lena froze. “Uh…” 

Unbeknownst to Lena the spiders had grown used to the forceful tunes from the lyrium but her singing that neither twisted and curled their will into her own, this was pleasant. For a long few seconds it was as quiet as the dead until Happy tapped out the beat, dancing in place, raising its front legs. Another spider joined in and Lena giggled. 

“Ya’ll are so  _ silly _ .” She cackled and then turned back and sang, uncaring if the spiders joined in. “Don't, don't, don't, don't stop the beat! I can't, can't, can't, can't control my feet. P-p-p-people in the street! C'mon everybody and move your feet!” Lena sang and moved forward and around the spiders, weaving through their legs as she danced. Her hips swayed and arms up as she danced. She felt something in her pocket stir, she stuck her hand in and pulled out the now hatching spider egg. 

“Don't stop - don't stop - don't stop the beat! I can't stop - can't stop - can't stop the beat. I won't stop - won't stop - won't stop the beat. And GO!” She sang and continued moving through the cavern, the little spider hatching in her hand was mostly all white and glowing blue bristles. Lena held it, unafraid but she knew it’d have to eat as soon as it finished hatching, she’d rather not be it’s intended meal.

“Lets go find food!” She belted out to the tune while dancing, the rhythm of the spider legs on the floor kept her going. She sang while dancing and moving, if only to find some kind of dead spider for the baby one to eat. She traversed through a tunnel, only for her to hear a scuttling behind her.  She expected Happy, what did not expect was for the other spiders to also follow behind Happy and her. “Well alright then!” 

Down the tunnel she sang and danced, her glowing skin leading the way until she heard squealing. The spiders behind her rushed past and around her toward the squealing. Webbing and poison was shot out in the dark and she hung back, watching as the spiders feasted on a cluster of nugs. The hatchling in her hand scuttled toward the food and Lena backed up slowly and right into the large tarantula spider. It looked like it was overseeing the whole group. 

“Are you like the alpha?” She recalled the queen spider and wondered if there was a hierarchy of sorts for the spiders, like ants or bees. Were queen spiders just their broodmother? 

Of course she didn’t get a response back, but the spider’s pedipalps touched her face, the bristles catching dirt and dust. It was  _ grooming _ her. 

Once the feasting ended, and she quieted her own stomach with water. “Gotta find a way out,” She sighed. “On the road again. Just can't wait to get on the road again. The life I love is making music with my friends. And I can't wait to get on the road again.” She sung softly, tired as she wove through a tunnel that sloped up. She lost some of the spiders as she went, but Happy stuck close and then there was of course the tiny white and blue one that she felt scuttle up her leg and perch on her shoulder. Unfazed, she pet it as she kept moving. 

She wasn’t quite sure when or how but she fell asleep. Exhaustion finally catching up to her. And surrounded by spiders, she expected them to eat her. Instead, she slept, body jostling as though being carried. 

  
  


Lena woke to the sound of waves crashing and birds chirping and a too bright light warming her face. She was surrounded by fuzzy bristles and purring bodies, one such body was half on her and another was a small tiny one on her chest. She didn’t know spiders slept, but they did. The air was moist and it was the brightest she’d seen in...well she wasn’t entirely sure. 

It was rather calming, quiet and relaxing being nestled by the warm purring bodies, even if they were spiders. With her head hurting, as though from a hangover - which was a shocker to her - she climbed up, holding the tiny spider to her chest as she worked her way up and out.  

The cave opening overhung over a cliff that when she looked down out into the world, gave her the view of the ocean. A wide expansive ocean and if she looked to the left, there was a shore.  Not just any shore, the  _ Wounded Coast. _ She could make out the broken remains of ships and the tide coming out as the sun rose over the west - an peculiarity she had noticed months ago but it had just been another oddity to go with Thedas, just like the two moons. 

Seeing the somewhat familiar coast, prompted Lena to cry.  Not just verbally but visibly. For the first time in however long, her tears did not come out glowing. Certainly there were blue specs in them but they didn’t glow. She wiped her tears and snot and sat in a corner. She could go home now, go find Varric and Denier, give them both hugs and never ever leave their sights again. She could eat a proper meal and not munch on hallucinogenic cave mushrooms and drink lyrium to survive. Lena could just see herself in the Hanged Man now, and just enjoying a quieter life, maybe invite Nika as well and show her she wasn’t all that scary.  Share some nug bacon and hanged mash and drink all the ale she could handle. She sniffed with a grin and turned back into the cave where the spiders were rousing. 

Her mood dampened as she recalled why she was even in here, why she had been trapped in these tunnels. “Athenril.” Her growl was guttural, deep and made the spiders shiver. The wet tears still on her hand glowed bright, suddenly activated. Her skin tingled and she felt the mountain’s heartbeat in her chest, thudding steadily. 

Lena had a very bloody bone to pick with Athenril. She’d make her pay, and Harlan too but Athenril mostly. Looking at her spider companions, she grinned. 

“Let’s find a way out of here my lovelies? Head back to Kirkwall because Mama’s got some elf soap to make.” She gave a bitter low laugh as she headed back into the tunnels, away from the sunlight. 

* * *

 

Denier snuck up the stairs of the Blooming Rose with the small plate of food. It wasn’t because he felt sorry for her, but rather because Harlan had left strict instructions to keep her fed enough to live. But no more. Normally, Harlan conducted this business elsewhere, but every few days Cora was ordered to deliver the meal and Athenril had to watch as the booted thug hurt her.

He had just as much reason to hate Athenril, but this was torture. It was too much. Not to mention the effects of some kind of magic.  Denier wasn’t an idiot, the man was likely employing a mage to do terribly and sinister things to Athenril, given however he found her with more bandages and looking paler and paler each time he had to go up there. He’d have guessed Idunna but the woman didn’t have it in her to employ that kind of pain, even if she was a blood mage. 

He opened the door to the small closet Athenril was chained in. She wasn’t moving and barely breathing. He pitied her for a few seconds until he thought of Lena, and what death she likely went through after the explosion. It had either been a quick death or a slow drawn out one via lyrium. He dropped the plate at Athenril’s feet and kicked her, overturning her. 

“Make sure to eat.” He spat and left her there. 

He was bitter and angry. There weren’t many dwarva in the business and Lena had been his friend, his  _ sister _ in the trade. Denier hadn’t thought he’d gotten that attached to her but he had. But he was handling it much better than Varric. 

“How is she?” Serendipity asked as Denier crawled back into bed. 

“Alive.” He grumbled and pulled the sheet up. Dip curled around him. The silence of the day unnerved him but he tried to settle down for some sleep. He’d gotten very little for the past week and a half. 

“And Tethras?” 

For a long time, Denier said nothing as he thought of his friend, grieving the loss of another woman in his life. First Bianca’s rejection, then Ilsa’s death and now Lena.  The dwarf just could not catch a break.  “He’s been through worse.” He rolled over to sleep. 

* * *

 

 

“We’ve found the tunnel, Ser.” 

“And? Was the lyrium there?”

“Yes, Ser.” 

“So where is it?” 

“There’s a bit of a problem.” 

“What do you mean problem?”

“Ser, it’s just. Its the spiders, ser.” 

“Are you telling me, you can’t handle a few spiders?” 

“If it were only just a few.” 

“I had months worth of shipment stored in that mountain, you better not tell me spiders are the only reason you can’t get it into the next location.” 

“Ser, you have to understand. Our men…they were overrun.” 

“Exactly how many spiders are we talking about?” 

“A horde. Hundreds, maybe a thousand- ack,” the Coterie scout choked as Harlan’s hand twisted in the air and he fell over. 

“Useless.” He spat and turned his eye toward Athenril who shuddered beneath him. “Well, looks like they found the lyrium.” He kicked her in the ribs and she cried out. “Too fucking bloody bad we can’t reach it!” He kicked her repeatedly. “Spiders, of all the things.” Harlan grit his teeth, his fist slamming on the table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True Facts, spiders are actually adorable bashful things. They really are more scared of us than we are of them. Also, if you want to see a dancing spider, look up a video of the peacock spider's mating dance. It's cute as hell!


	23. Return to Kirkwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena returns back to Kirkwall. Its completely uneventful.

> _They say wyvern riding is the height of Orlesian thrill-seeking. It’s daring bold, not quite as bold as the Pentaghast family pastime of dragon slaying, but still quite up there. If you however took a trip to the Free Marches, the height of Marcher daring was not wyvern riding as it used to in prior ages. Wyverns are practically domesticated as soon as you exhausted them in battle and had them faint, then it was a long process of acclimatizing them to you._
> 
> _Wyverns did not spit poison or web at you or sink their venomous fangs in you to paralyze you and drink the liquefied meat that was you as soon as their venom ran its course, not like giant spiders did anyway. Yes, that’s right Spider Riding. Only dwarva dared attempt such a feat and only those directly related to the House River would do so with ease, all others - well it is advised not to._
> 
> _Ask any Marcher dwarva, they’ll tell you if you want to really dare and be bold, go deep into the Deep Roads and find a spider. If you’re lucky you find a spiderling and can train it slowly, with a few bites and maybe some dissolved flesh due to their venom over the course of a few months; if you’re not lucky - well you won’t be coming back out of the deep roads anytime soon, if at all._
> 
> \-- Sister Gavina on Marcher Past Times 9:38 Dragon

* * *

 Foolhardy, that is what Lena thought of her idea, even as the large tarantula like spider allowed her to tie the silk rope around its midsection and then let her climb atop. Honestly she had no idea if it would even let her command it like she wanted to but she did have a plan B of course. A large long wooden staff with a dead bat hanging at the end of it for her to hold out.

Of course that was implying the spider would even let her on it once the saddle was on. She had to frequently scratch at its sides as bribery for it to let tie the rope in place. It was a weird situation that she thought she’d never be in. She had never ridden a horse in her life, though she doubted it would be anything like that. The closest she’d ever gotten to riding anything was a pony when she was barely a yard high. Either way she created a makeshift saddle in the dark with the remnants of her glow lighting her way. It was shoddy and slid around but she made it work.

Happy was persistently trying to jump up with her but she had to actually get seated before she could attempt to have Happy on with her. And then there was of course the little one that perched, or rather clung to her shoulder. It took a few hours to get it settled but once on top of the spider, she dubbed Doc for his patient demeanor, she was set to go. And why was she riding on a spider’s back when she could attempt to walk?

It was a matter of convenience and necessity. She’d found a tunnel that would lead out but the problem was there were spiders, hordes of them. Too many big ones and too many small ones for her to get through safely. Not without stepping on one occasionally. She’d gotten rather fond of them.

“Alright… okay, Doc. You let me up here. You better let me steer you.” She tucked her legs under each strap of rope and tightened it, but not too tight and held on with her left hand. The bat on a stick held out. She scratched at Doc’s sides and spurred it forward. It moved and for a brief moment, Lena grinned as it moved forward. It was slow but much faster than she had been moving. Plus, she now had a small pile of booty she had collected. Mushrooms, more webbing and silk sacs, torn garments and belt buckles. It all seemed superfluous but she was thinking of the future. She could sell it all.

The spider moved forward and she moved the stick to the right to urge it that way.

It did not go right.

“Aw what?! Come on. What’s up Doc? Why ya going that way?” She leant forward to look at the spider’s eyes. They flickered up at her but it kept moving and surging forward down the tunnels. At least it was going where she wanted. “Seriously… if you was gonna go that way anyway, why’d I go through the trouble of catching… this...bat. Oh there are so many” Her mouth dropped open as she saw the horde only this time many of them were up on the ceiling, webs being shot out into the air and catching more of the large flying bats and there was a lot of shrieking.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me- HEY WAIT NO NO!” She shrieked as Doc the spider began climbing up the walls, her thighs clenched tight astride the spider’s midsection and she held fast, ditching the bat on a stick as they went upside down. “Oh no no no. Do not let me fall, do not let me fall.” Her knuckles went white as she gripped the rope and her specifically tied box and bags went flying as the spider’s abdomen shook and a large web was flung out of it’s spinners. It was like riding a bull, only worse and infinitely more scary as she hung upside down clinging for her life.

Happy the jumping spider was climbing up as well, shooting its own webs and eating. It had apparently been a necessary detour because once a _live_ bat had been caught, Doc went sliding down the wall toward the prey. It injected it’s venom and then hovered over it as the bat twitched, wings fluttering until it lay still. Doc sucked the meat out of the bat.

“Remind me never to piss you off, Doc.” Lena muttered, her nose wrinkling at the sucking motions. The enzymes in the venom had worked startlingly fast. Her own stomach grumbled. She managed to slide off Doc and gather her supplies again, narrowly avoiding the smaller younger spiderlings. She collected it all and loaded up Doc while it ate. She scratched its sides. Its eyes closed and it purred, still sucking its prey. She drank some water to soothe her stomach. “Okay. Lets try this again, yeah?” She hopped on when it was finished eating. Clucking her tongue, Happy joined her and she felt the tiny crawling white and blue Dopey that perched right on her shoulder.

“Onward?” She asked and Doc gave a brief shake of its abdomen and surged forward at full speed. Lena forgot how fast spiders can move when pressed, but it was at short distances that it went and then it slowed. “Woah...okay. Yeah… you’re definitely not for endurance or speed, but still cool.” She scratched and rubbed Doc’s sides it purred but kept moving on through the tunnel.

Selena took a look behind her at Happy and the bags and boxes. She was a bit worried. She knew tarantulas back home didn’t exactly have thick skin, that was why they usually ran from humans because humans had a tendency to drop them or try and swat them. They’d injure easily. Beyond Happy she spotted other spiders following after them, different sorts and ones she recognized as ones she had fallen asleep next to. She turned back forward and concentrated on the tunnel. The air was getting fairly moist and warm, that was probably why the horde of spiders congregated here. Warm and moist air was good for them, kept them hydrated.

They went around a bend only for all the spiders to still when they heard metal and shrieking. Lena however heard voices and yelling and that is what unnerved her. _People_. There were people in here, people that were likely killing the spiders. Were they here for her? Had Varric sent people looking for her? Her chest felt tight at the thought. But the spiders under her command began scuttling back, away from the sounds.

“Hey wait - no.” She tried to direct Doc back. “We’ve gotta go forward.” She whined and tried to gently dig her thigh into Doc to make it turn back It gave a rumbling _annoyed_ sound. Even Happy had scuttled back.

“Come on! You’re spiders! You’ve lot got the numbers. Whatever is killing them you can take them!” She huffed, though not really. She didn’t want Varric’s people to be killed. Especially if Varric was among them.

“I’ll give you an underbelly rub?” She tried to bribe the spider and reached down below and tickled their underbelly. Doc shuddered and turned back toward the sounds. It was slow going but they moved forward. Happy wasn’t very happy but he followed too. Even Dopey on her shoulder was now hiding in her hair. The thought sent shivers up her spine to know a spider had nested in her hair but she tried not to let it bother her.

There were spiders fleeing as they went around another bend. That was when she saw it. The spiders were _running_ away and the people were specifically targeting them. The spiders weren’t even fighting them, or attempting to shoot poison or webs. Call her crazy, but in her eyes that was attacking a defenseless creature. The tunnel opened up into a cave that was shrouded in darkness, made worse by the bright sunset. She came out on top of Doc, getting angrier as she didn’t recognize any of the attackers.

“You shouldn’t attack defenseless creatures.” Her voice came out guttural and livid as she sat up on top of Doc, leering down at them. There was what she would consider a warrior and two rogues. They faltered and gaped as Doc approached slower.

“D-d-demon!” Came one cry and the barrel shaped man stumbled back, tripping over himself as the others ran out of the cave. One of the attackers only had a pair of daggers and was glowing red. She swears she could recognize them.

“You should leave.” Lena grit her teeth. “Get out of _my nest_.” She shouted and the man fell backwards, shocked as he too also ran. Poison was spat out at his retreating form but it didn’t reach him when a barrier was flashed behind him that glowed an eerie hot red. He disappeared down the coast.

Lena huffed. “That’ll teach em.” She noticed the other spiders that had turned back had appeared above her and around. She could only imagine what it must have looked like.

Sliding off Doc, she crouched low and gave him the underbelly rub she promised. “You were good. A very good boy, Doc.” She rubbed and its legs twitched - pleased at her attention. Chuckling Lena continued rubbing until she tired and then looked at the cave entrance out toward the coast.

It was night now. She was exhausted, hungry and absolutely filthy, but she was so close. She didn’t want to stop. “Alright. I can walk now, but stay with me, kay?” She pet Doc and Happy and ventured forward. Stopping only to wash herself in the coast water and to stare up at the sky.

She had never ventured to the Wounded Coast before, too afraid to leave Kirkwall and get lost. In the game it was with quick travel but in reality there was a lot of ground to cover. “So hungry…” She groaned as she walked across the beach. The sun was setting so she rushed down the coast, there had to an easy way. There was the coast and then there was Sundermount and the mountain pass and then there was the forest. She whined.

“Its too far!” She groaned and fell to her knees. She really needed to eat. She’d long since had a hunger headache and water would only last so long. She’d eat just about anything. Except the mushrooms. Not the mushrooms. She wouldn’t go down that trip again.

Grumbled, she felt Happy nudge her and she stumbled up and continued.

High tide was coming in and it was full on dark. The moons were high up in the sky giving her light and making her cold. She shivered as she skirted around the rising tide. Or she would have if the foulest stench she could recall didn’t have her gagging. Even if she had ate anything, she’d be losing it now.

“What in god’s green earth is that?!” She coughed and pinched her nose. Instead of walking away, she went toward the smell, toward some rocky outcropping and stopped. It wasn’t just rocky, it was bricked. The tide coming in was beginning to draw out a sludge viscous foulness that had her coughing. It rose and drew it out into the ocean.

“Is that… is that Kirkwall’s _sewers?!_ ” Aghast she looked back at Doc and Happy who had climbed up on the cliff and were now coming down and under, climbing into the sewers.

It would certainly be faster than wandering around in the forest at night. And it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to the smell of filth. Her own palpable stench was putrid. She was pretty sure when she had fallen due to the explosion she had pissed her pants.

“This will likely lead to civilization?” She nodded. The sewers would lead to Darktown, which meant Kirkwall, much faster if a bit stinkier.

“Onwards?” She looked to Doc and Happy.

It took three hours of gagging and coughing before she acclimated to the smell of shit, piss, vomit, rotted garbage, and refuse. It took another seven more hours for her to find and take the first sewer passage up. It lead to a dark dank corner of Darktown. It was one of the more dangerous ones. She didn’t care, she was in Kirkwall, if a bit in a insidious section. The problem came however when she moved forward, so too did Doc. But she knew the corridors and hallways in Darktown would by no ways allow the spider to travel through - at least not easily.

“Crap.” She frowned. “Doc… I’m gonna have to let you go here.” She untied the silk rope and her bags and boxes. The spider gave a rumbling purr and rubbed against her. Lena let it. “Yeah, i know. But the way is too narrow for you. You can head back to the caves ya know. Probably safer there than here.” It rubbed against her again and Lena sniffed. “Aww... okay. One more belly rub, then you gotta go.” She ducked under and gave Doc a full belly rub, scratching at his sides and hard to reach places. It’s purr music to her ears. Doc retreated back into the sewer.

She looked at Happy who was much smaller and could easily travel next to her, like a mabari. Her fingers traced over the back of Happy’s abdomen and it shivered, pleased. She had to strap her bag on and carry the box but it was a heavy load and she made her way through Darktown.

The great thing about having a spider companion, was everyone in Darktown, even the shady and extremely sinister types backed far from her. She was a tiny dwarf, barely four foot six high and next to her was a spider spanning three feet long and four feet wide. It walked pressed close to her. She walked up to a stall faced the owner.

"You. I want to sell some things.” She didn’t care much for haggling but the stall owner could not help but stare at her spider as it hissed at everyone that strayed too close.

“Me-messere. Th-that is an-an interesting p-pet.” They stuttered as Happy jumped up on the wall and watched from the corner. The stall owner was pallid and trying to keep both Happy and her in his sights.

“Yeah. He’s adorable, ain’t he?” She grinned wide and turned to Happy. “Aren’t you?” She cooed and clicked her tongue to emulate tapping and Happy made scuttling sounds.

“Me-messere. yo-your hair!”

“What?” With one hand up to her hair, she felt Dopey crawl on her hand and she cooed. “Oh yeah, he’s new. Isn’t he just darling?”

The stall owner backed up.

“So, you willing to buy? I’ve got some hella nasty mushrooms.” She pulled them out of her bag and plopped them down. All thirteen different kinds. She separated the ones she had ingested. “Ate these ones, killer visions.” She grinned.

“You ate those?!” The stall owner gaped. “Those are poison!”

“Oh.” She eyed them. “Well that would certainly explain a lot.”

In the end she got a handful of sovereigns for her mushrooms and even a few silvers for some of her silk rope. A fair amount of business. She added the coin to the box. It was heavy and laden with many gold coins and metal things.

“Incidentally, what day is it?”

It was the 17th of Guardian. It had been exactly nine days since she had a proper meal. _Nine days_. And by her count, the day of the explosion had been a Tuesday. “ _Fucking Tuesdays_ ,” she grumbled. The first thing she bought was not food but rather a few health potions, one that she downed quick as ever in hopes it would soothe her stomach. She needed food but who knows what disastrous things her lyrium feeding and mushroom munching had caused internally.

She was tempted to visit a few of the shops down here but it would take her out of the way of where she wanted to go. It was almost day and that meant Harlan would be awake. Who knew what happened to Athenril but if anyone would know where she was - it would be Harlan. She looked at Happy and grinned. She’d be damned sure Harlan told her everything she wanted.

* * *

 

Hightown was quiet as she scuttled from alley to alley, Dawn’s light shining bright as people began waking and opening up their stalls and starting trade and business. Nobles gossiping, sisters proselytizing and beggars begging. Lena stuck to the alleys, hiding from the guards at least until she made it to the Rose. Happy cheated by climbing up the walls of the buildings and scuttling over windows and rooftops, following her movements in the alleys. She glared up at him.

“Oh you think you’re sooo impressive. Parkour spider is best spider huh?” She pouted as Happy jumped from one rooftop, landed on the side and used a web to descend slowly. “Well, now you’re just showing off on purpose.” She still gave the jumping spider a pet as she opened the Rose’s back door with push and shimmy up to unlock the door. She let in Happy after her and then ascended up.

She stopped by her crawl space and saw most of her barrels of lye had been moved. She ventured to the roof and frowned seeing the mostly decayed head of Baltier. She picked it up and dropped it in one of the lesser lye solutions, ignoring the maggots and bugs flying.

Most of the area had been cleared of her personal effects. She had to remember they were all at the Hanged Man. Lena would have to make a visit to Varric, but not before bathing. _Properly_ bathing.

She went down and crossed over toward Luisine’s room, listening carefully at the door. She’d grown used to hear Luisine’s pained gasps and moans every morning. She’d once asked why she let Harlan treat her like that and Luisine said she had to “keep her girl safe.” She never once judged the Madame for it. You did what you had to, to protect the ones you cared about.

But it was odd, there was no pained gasps at least not ones she recognized.

“Bitch.” A slap sounded and Lena jolted in spot and Happy responded by hissing. “Useless knife ear.” Another slap and there was a groan, sharp pains and grunting.

It became very silent. Too silent, Lena felt something was very wrong. She burst through the door and stopped dead at the site of Athenril held aloft in the air by nothing but the waves of _power_ coming off Harlan.

It took her seconds to see what was happening, to process the gravity of the situation.

Athenril was battered, bruised, her form mostly exposed and leaking. She smelled almost as bad as Lena and likely worse. Her lip busted, eyes swollen and even her ears looked partially bitten. There was a fresh burgundy red scar over her exposed chest, and blues, greens, and yellow discolorations all along her arms, ribs, neck, and legs. Lena didn’t even have to wonder what was dripping from between Athenril’s thighs because she could smell the smell of sex in the air.

Her hackles rose, angrily she turned toward Harlan. “Put. Her. Down.” Her growl was guttural and rough. Her skin tingled and glowed a faint blue. Happy responded to her tone and hissed, spitting web at Harlan’s hand as the man released his hold on Athenril. She went toppling down.

“Lena?” He said and stepped back seeing the spider and recoiling as it drew closer. It bristled and barbed bristles went flying at him.

“Athenril.” She dropped to her feet next to the elf who glared up at her. She pulled a health potion out and forced it down her throat. “Drink.” Athenril tried to spit it back out. “It’s a health potion.” She still wouldn’t.

“For god’s sake.” She took a chug and forced Athenril to drink it by forcing it into her mouth with a kiss. She did this several times until Athenril shook her head and pushed at her hand weakly.

Lena looked back at Harlan. She had intended to get revenge on Athenril for the explosion. But she wouldn’t wish what the elf had gone through on anyone. Not even her most hated enemy.

“Why?” She muttered, feeling anger rising in her throat. “Why would you do something like this to her? She’s your left hand isn’t she?”

“Sodding terrible one. I raised her, and she betrayed me.” Harlan spat and moved forward but stopped short when Happy hissed.

Lena seethed and turned back to Athenril, as she lay still barely breathing.

“Well you’re a fucking idiot.” The back of her teeth ground. “Because she _didn’t_ betray you.” She rose, stepping precariously closer to Happy, who calmed as she got closer. “Brekker did. Athenril had me beat it out of him.”

“What?” Harlan started.

“Oh yeah.” Lena waved her hand in the air. “Brekker caused the explosion, but I survived.” Lena shrugged.

“You’re saying…” Harlan started, a deep growl under his words. “Athenril _didn’t_ intentionally cause the explosion?”

“Right. Why, what’d she say? Did she say she did?” She looked back toward the elf who blinked at her from her position on the floor. “She’s a bit self-sacrificing. _Much too ethical_ to do something like that, don’t you think?” She gave Athenril a cold stare as she said it. “She’s too soft. That’s why I had to get the confession ya know.”

“And exactly how did you survive? My men have been attempting for days to reach the tunnels.” Harlan sneered and loomed over her, but he stepped back when Happy hissed and Dopey peeked out of her hair.

With a roll of her eyes and shoulders she gave a simple explanation. “Sea turtles, mate.”

“What?”

“Its ahhhh reference to a legendary raider. Captain Jack Sparrow, haven’t heard of him? Oof, he’ll be right disappointed. Anyway his crew mutinied him and marooned him on an island and to escape he tied up a bunch of sea turtles with the hair that grew off his back and sailed off to enact his revenge.” Lena snorted and pointed to Happy, petting him. “Meet my sea turtles.”

“Sea turtles?” Harlan squinted at her.

“Right. Yeah anyway, listen. It’s been like nine days since I’ve had a proper meal. I’ll give ya the full report once I’m ah… cleaned up, yeah?”

“Full report?”

“Well, I figured you’d want to know what I did to Brekker to get him to confess, right?”

“Right.”

“Great! See ya in a few days.” Lena turned back to Athenril but double backed and ripped the sheet off the bed. “Just gonna borrow this.” She wrapped Athenril in it and hauled her up.

“Why-”

“Sh sh. Throw your arm over my shoulder.” Lena shushed her as they walked out of the room. “Happy, come on.” She whispered and the spider followed after her.

Her stomach clenched tightly around empty air, but she had something more important.

* * *

 

Getting through Hightown with a spider had been difficult. Getting to the Alienage with a spider and naked but wrapped in a blanket beaten and brutalized elf was another thing. She did not want to take Darktown so she carefully made her way through alleys, slow and steady but Athenril could barely stand much less walk. It ended up with her more carrying and dragging the woman across avenues and streets. Her breath labored and heavy.

She was running on completely empty, total empty. She had water and should have drank some water but she didn’t want to put her down not until she got her home and some help. Happy skulked across the rooftops, so thankfully she didn’t have to watch out for him but that would be more difficult when it came time for the descent of doom down the stairs. They were open and obvious and would be hard to hide, especially as the morning sun rose.

“Gee willikers, Batman. This is an impossible task.” She huffed and rested. "Well, that's a negative attitude, Robin." She snorted but peaked around the last alley until they would have to be in the open to get to the stairs and down them.

“Go- ugh…Maker, I wish someone would help.” She gripped as she boldly walked forward. She spotted Happy crawl down the building and dart to her side, to the horror of a passing noble. “Shit shit shit. Double time, Athenril, we gotta go.” She lifted the blanket to cover Happy a tad but you really couldn’t hide a three foot wide spider in broad daylight.

Of course as soon as she said that, a voice halted her progress.

“Halt. Vagabonds!” Lena stopped at the command and looked behind her.

 _Donnic. Of course._ Lena sighed but quickly brightened. “Ser Hendyr!”

The Kirkwall guardsman slowed his approached, brows furrowed. “Do I know you?” He muttered.

“Yes. I’m Madame Lena River. We met about - Oh cripes - like two weeks ago?” Lena grinned. “I may look very disheveled because I’ve just come back-”

“From the dead. Messere Tethras believes you died.” The clueless man knelt in front of her, and then looked to Athenril and recoiled back from the Happy.

“Oh, shit.” Lena allowed a few seconds. “Right… nine days missing. Explosion. Yeah okay I can see how he’d think that. But I’m not, as you can see. Actually Donnic, think you cando me a favor. Help me out here. I’ve just rescued this lass here from a rather _nasty_ evil man and I need to get her home, get her some help. Think you can carry her for me?” She grinned up at Donnic, pleading. “I’ll even make it worth your while.” She leant forward.

“Worth my-” His nostrils flared and he looked her up and down with barely concealed disgust.

Lena was only mildly hurt, because she hadn’t actually been serious but to know she looked and smelled _that_ bad, well it did bruise her ego.

“That- won’t be necessary.” He waved his hand in front, but did offer his help by picking up Athenril. “What happened to her exactly?”

“She’s an elf. Under the employ of a rather prejudiced man. What do you think happened?” Lena made sure Athenril was fully covered as Donnic held her. He was gentle and gave the elf a pitying look. Thankfully she wasn’t fully conscious of what was happening.

“I- I.” Donnic spoke. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Right. You’re a bit slow.” Lena’s filter was gone, she clucked her tongue and Happy stuck close to her. Donnic was wary of the spider. “She was abused. Thoroughly, and _just_ because she’s an elf. That’s called racism. Understand?” She explained as they descended down the stairs.

“Just because she’s an elf?”

“Yes. Some people even do so frequently. Ever wonder why the elves are pushed into the Alienage, which is not exactly sanitary or very nice. It’s because they are elves and people don’t like elves… because they are elves.”

“I thought the elves wanted to be there.”

“Oh piss, you’re naive.” She muttered low.

“Need I remind you who is helping who.”

“Right. So sorry. Thank you for being a concerned citizen and helping one of the people who it is your duty as guardsmen to help protect.” Lena leveled a glare at him. “Yeah. Don’t try to guilt trip me, Ser.” She snapped. He didn’t try to arrest her or yell at her but they remained silent. Other walkers up the steps moved to the side to avoid Lena and Happy, purely because of how they looked.

It was a long trek to the alienage and they had to pass the hexe the Hanged Man was in. Lena looked at the building, longing to go in there and find Varric but Athenril was more important and more pressing.

They walked into the Alienage and the few other elves were tense as they watched them pass through. Happy had long disappeared to the rooftops, specifically an alleyway with a rooftop overhang, giving her a nice dark corner to sit in. Which Lena was grateful for because less people looked their way and stepped away.

“Athenril?” She poked the elf. Lena remembered she lived here but wasn’t sure where exactly. “Hey, which is your house… hey. I need you to wake up enough. I don’t-”

“Pardon me, Sers.” A voice of an elven woman came out low and whispering. Lena turned and saw a woman poking her head out of one of the run down homes. “What do you want with the elves?” Her face was covered in tattoos and her large eyes kept darting to Donnic who held Athenril. The woman was tense, and in her hands was a pair of daggers. She was ready to attack if need be.

“Do you know Athenril?” Lena spouted out. “I just want to know where she lives so we can get her help. She’s been-” Lena was cut off by the woman paling and stepping forward. All pretense of fighting them gone as she gasped and hovered over and touched the coterie’s cheek.

“By the Creators!” She anguished. “Her home is not adequate to treat her. This way.” She spoke and led Lena and Donnic to her own home.

The room was barely large enough to house a woman let alone one and her son. It had a small fire pit and one small section curtained off for some bedrolls, not even cots. There was a young boy, that looked neither elven or human, sitting at the table. He jumped out of his seat as - presumably - his mother spoke quick words. “Feynriel, fetch me the poultices.”

Her attention sharpened on the elven woman and the elf blooded child as they worked to prepare some bandages and water. Donnic placed Athenril on the table, gentle like. He wasn’t ushered out but they were both pushed off to the side as Athenril was cleaned up. The blood and bruises.

“Maker!” Donnic whispered, his face pale as he saw the extent of the damage. Selena fixed him with a long stare.

“That’s racism at it’s _finest_.” She muttered and crossed her arms. They neither left nor abandoned the small room, though Donnic’s brows furrowed and a grim expression set about his face. Lena’s stomach grumbled.

“Truly? A woman is beaten in front of you and you’re hungry?” Donnic glowered at her.

“Listen mate. I haven’t _eaten_ in nine days. I am bloody _starving_ here. Don’t you give me shit.” She hissed.

“Nine?” If possible, Donnic became paler. The woman - whom Lena suspected was Arianni - and her son gave her an incredulous expression.

“Here, Donnic. Since you’re so concerned.” Lena spat and pulled open her bag and grabbed a handful of silver coins and one sovereign. “Go buy food. Lots of it, and poultices, bandages, and potions to replenish this good woman’s stores.” She shoved the coins into the Guardsman's hands, fully aware he could just disappear with it. Donnic’s mouth opened to say something but Lena scowled at him. He left.

She was grateful because she didn’t exactly feel safe with him there, actually she didn’t feel safe without Happy or Doc nearby. Stepping out into the alienage, she looked at the tree where she could spot a dark form jumping from branch to branch, and finally catching a rather large looking bird. The elves below the tree noticed and whispered unnerved.

Clucking her tongue against teeth the spider crawled down and the other elves dispersed. Until one came out with a sword meant to approach Happy. But the spider scuttle to her and she stooped low to pet it, showing the spider was entirely harmless.

“Messere.” Came the young voice of the boy, Feynriel. His face pale as he kept his distance. He held in his hands a bowl of berries and nuts.

“Yes?” She asked him. The boy stared at her, something rather odd about him. But then again Lena knew he was a mage and a dreamer no less.

“I know what its like to go without food for so-so long.” he stammered and held the bowl to her.

Lena’s stomach clenched and she reached for a few berries, leaving the nuts. She popped them in her mouth. “Thank you.” She sighed. The berry was sweet, so sweet and its juice rolled across her tongue. When she swallowed it, she followed it up with the last few drops of her water. “I’m sleepy.”

“You can sleep in my bed.”

“Nah… just give me a corner. Happy sleeps with me.” She muttered and headed back into their home, the spider close by. She slumped in a corner and slept. Happy half on her lap and curled up, purring.

* * *

 

She woke up vomiting. The handful of berries she had eaten coming right up and out.

“I told you Feynriel, she shouldn’t have eaten that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps I should give her some broth then?”

“Oh. Oh yes, of course Guardsmen.”

“What?” Lena looked up at Donnic who was free of his platemail and leant over her, wiping her mouth. “Where’s Happy?”

“That damnable spider of yours is chasing rats.”

“Useful, that spider.”

“Heh.” Lena giggled and took the small cup of broth. “What’s this?”

“Arianni believed you should drink broth before eating again. Get used to food.” Donnc explained.

“Yeah… sounds about right.” Lena sipped the broth. It was warm and settled nicely. “How’s Athenril?” She looked across at Arianni.

“She’s healing, a few more days of that…” Aranni shook her head. “She might not have made it. But she’s breathing easier.”

“Good. I made her drink elfroot potions when I found her, I hope that helped.”

“It didn’t do her any worse.” Arianni whispered.

Donnic had to leave but he did show Lena the basket of potions, poultices, and food he had bought with the coin she had shoved at him. He made a promise to Arianni to come back and check on Athenril. At least he was one of the good guardsmen.

Lena watched as Arianni cleaned Athenril with a cloth and Feynriel sat reading a book in the corner. If she had to guess, the boy was in his early teens. He kept quiet but occasionally kept looking toward Athenril and his mouth opening before his mother glared at him. Lena had a feeling she knew what it was.

It continued like that for much of the morning, until Lena got fed up.

“What is it? Why do you keep looking at your mother? Do you think you can help?” She prodded him.

“I-”

“Feynriel.” His mother warned. “He means well is all. He just wants to help.”

“Because he’s a mage?” Lena spat out. The room was tense and mother and son looked at her scared. “What he’s a healer? So let him help if he thinks he can.”

“How did-”

“How’d I know? Yeah, bit difficult but I can recognize a mage easy enough, and your son is a mage. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Templars. I’m not overly fond of the way they treat mages in the Gallows.” Lena spouted out, officially done with keeping quiet.

“Feynriel-”

“Yeah look, boy. Go on, if you think you can heal her, do it. Heck I’d love to see it. I don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone heal.”

“Feynriel, go-”

“Look. Arianni. It’s fine. You’ll come to no harm from me. Afterall, I work for the coterie.”

“That’s what’s disconcerting… The coterie aren’t- well.” Arianni looked down at Athenril. Lena understood.

“How’d you know?” Feynriel jumped in. “You’re a dwarf. I thought dwarves don’t have magic?”

“Long ago, dwarves _did_ have magic.”

“What?” Both mother and son asked sharply.

“I’ve never heard of that.” Arianni looked skeptical.

“It’s not widely known, if at all by common dwarves let alone by the Dalish or Chantry.”

“What happened to make dwarves not have magic?” Feynriel questioned, his large eyes curious and peering at her.

“Well… I don’t know.” Lena smiled and leaned back, sipping the last of her broth. It settled in her stomach without pain. She felt full, too full. Lena yawned. “Sleepy. Where’s Happy?”

“You call your spider Happy?”

“He’s a very happy spider.” Lena drifted off.

 


	24. Fix the Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric finally decides to make use of Lena's special services.

Lena had only stayed asleep long enough to realize she shouldn't.  She absolutely couldn’t sleep.  Not here, not until she found someplace quiet and private where she could let herself scream in the midst of her nightmares.  Even before she hadn’t really slept, merely dozed in and out completely unaware of everything but the purring of Happy on her lap.  She hadn't entered REM sleep then.  At least she was sure of it.  

Dwarva didn't dream.  Dwarva did not sleep and see visions of their day’s events, or cosmos forbid lucid dream where they are aware and could control aspects of the dream.  Dwarva didn't do that, at least she didn't think so.  If she dreamed, why then hadn't she encountered a demon or a spirit yet? It was peculiar.  

Either way she couldn't sleep, not really, not there in Arianni’s house with an untrained mage who happened to be a dreamer.  

She snapped aware from her dozing off and sat up just in time to see Feynriel’s hands hover over Athenril and magic, actual magic performed.  Not the horrifying mess that Idunna had done to Lena ages ago or whatever lyrium monstrosity Tita had done.  Drawing closer to Feynriel, she watched as broken skin stitched Athenril up.  

She was reminded of the stitching _her_ lyrium ingestion had done to her skin.  Fixing her wounds and injuries as though reversing time upon her skin; the pink bloody flesh glowed sparkles and glittered blue.  She really hoped the lyrium was out of her system already.  She did not want to _glitter_ in the sunlight if she sweat.  

The closer she drew to Feynriel the faster his healing seemed to go, as though powered.  Feynriel’s magic sparked bright until he gave a cry.  

”Feynriel.” His mother warned and the elfblooded pre-teen stepped back.  

“I don’t know what happened.” He panted, exhausted looking at his hands confused.  

Lena’s stomach squirmed as she drew away.  Once she hung back, he seemed to gain control again.  He resumed healing.  She looked away and waited.  She didn’t want to leave Athenril even though the day was progressing outside.  There was so many things to do and she still had to bathe herself and then head back to the Rose to tell Harlan the fiction, a fiction she hadn’t yet crafted.  All to keep Athenril from being further under his wrath and cruelty.  

Arianni had Feynriel fetch a bucket of water.  When he returned, Arianni and Lena cleaned the coterie agent up with the warm water.  Blood and grime cleared, wounds cleansed and rewrapped until finally she could see Athenril, all of her.  She was still bruised but they were the colors of healing - green, yellows, and red.  No longer were they the deep ugly black and blue marks.  

Lena was given a second bucket of warm water to clean herself up and a large bar of soap.  It was Arianni’s not so subtle way of telling Lena she stank.  She didn't have any clothes to change into so she took a trip outside and bought the first things she could find from one of the stalls in Lowtown.  None of the clothes in the Alienage would ever fit her stocky and thicker frame.  

She went back, plopped down and scrubbed at her skin and wet and cleaned her hair.  Dopey escaped and perched on the wall, watching as she cleaned the dirt and muk.  Once somewhat cleaned, she pulled the men's tunic on and trousers, folding the ends of the legs until she tucked them into her boots.  Her sleeves also folded back as best she could.  She had to forgo small clothes and a breast band.  She had plans to demolish the clothes she had worn.  

Lena wasn't as clean as she wanted to be but she was certainly cleaner.  Her hair dried quickly and poofed out again in uneven cuts, cuts she had made with her own knife.  

“So.  What's your story?” Lena asked Arianni as she dumped the water out toward the sewers.  The Dalish woman froze.  “Not many Dalish around here.” Lena knew her story, knew it well.  But she had always assumed Arianni left Sabrae clan after the clan reached the Free Marches, not before.  

“My clan did not approve of my choices.” She muttered and looked toward Feynriel who was practicing his letters.  

“Because he's a Mage, or because he's half human?” Lena asked, keeping quiet as Arianni dressed Athenril in form fitting clothes so she wouldn't be naked.  

“Both.” She answered.  

“So you decided Kirkwall was the best place to head?” Lena raked her fingers through her hair, Dopey perched on her shoulder.  Arianni did not seem phased by the spider, in fact she had seen the woman pick up some of the Dopey’s webs and used them on Athenril for wrapping.  “Kirkwall and it's ever so famous over abundance of Templars.” Lena squinted at Arianni.  

Arianni didn't answer her, her shoulders stiff and brows stitched together.

“Planning for the future in case you failed to protect him from his magic?” Lena pressed.

“I-” Arianni glanced back at Feynriel. “I only want what is best for him.” She sighed and continued wrapping Athenril in spider web bandages.  

“Right.” Lena muttered. “Well I suppose Kirkwall is best. It is the most corrupt city in the Free Marches. You could pay a Templar to look the other way. Or bribe them.”

“Is that how you know Athenril?” Lena looked down at the blue tattooed elf.  “Was she bribing the Templars for you?”

“Many in the Alienage know her.” Arianni dodged the question, her lips terse.

“Right.  I’d get that, but you came right for us, as though expecting her.” Lena leant forward, squinting at Arianni.  “And the way you're caring for her, it's rather _personal_.”

“I-” Arianni frowned and glared at Lena.  “You overstep yourself, Ser dwarf.”

“I’m right. Aren't I?”

Arianna Sighed. “Yes.  She and I-” Arianni lowered her voice so Feynriel didn’t hear.  “I didn’t have anyone when Feynriel and I came here.  Athenril…” Her gaze turned affectionate.  “She helped us, welcomed us and arranged for us to have this room.  The other elves don’t much like that I am Dalish, and they like Feynriel even less because of his - “ Arianni trailed off.  

“Parentage?”

“Yes.” Arianni sighed.  

“Well, bigotry has never been exclusively whi- _human_.” Lena sang with a smirk only remembering to fix the lyric toward the end, “People tend to fear the things that are different and if they are especially stupid, they hate and attack what is different.”

“That is certainly one way to put it.”

Lena watched her, the gentle way she gazed down at the coterie.  Arianni caressed Athenril’s cheek and whispered low.  “She makes sure the Alienage is protected.  The coterie and the Templars do not come this way thanks to her.” Arianni smiled softly.  “Though I wondered at what cost.” Arianni spoke fondly.  

* * *

 

Some time later, Arianni had left to work as a laundress.  She had taken Lena’s clothes to add to the pile as repayment for the replenished goods.  Lena sat with Feynriel helping him go over his letters, and even reading with him.  She found it odd, remarkably odd that Arianni would simply trust her with her child, alone, but Lena was from a very different culture.  People were certainly a lot more trusting.  Plus, bringing her battered lover to safety warmed Arianni to Lena.  

“Can you do magic?” Feynriel asked as he closed his book and set his charcoal stick aside.  

“Nope.  And I don’t wish to.  Mages get a bad rep around here, and the short end of the stick.” Lena rose off the table, feeling antsy for staying still too long.  Feynriel frowned at her phrasing and Lena sighed.  “Nothing, go back to reading.” She waved him off and ventured to sit beside Athenril, her breathing returning to normal.  

She did not want to leave until Athenril woke so she could get on the same page of whatever the coterie agent had told Harlan.  It wouldn’t do to tell him something different, then he’d know they were lying.  Given what he did to Athenril, she didn’t want to test how far she could bullshit him.  

It was well into the night when Athenril woke up.  Arianni had returned and Lena had spent much of that time with Happy on her lap and Dopey making a new nest in her hair.  But she was awake when Athenril coughed.  She spat the dried blood that had been in her mouth.  Lena’s arm came out of the darkness into the light with a cup of water so she could swish her mouth.  Athenril’s gaze tracked her arm until she was looking up into Lena’s blue rimmed deep brown eyes.  Her mouth dropped open, breath hitching.  

“Good, you’re awake.” Lena’s voice took on a whispered tone, if only to ensure she didn’t wake Arianni or Feynriel who both had fallen asleep.  She stepped forward and knelt by her.  “We can talk now.”

“L-lena!” Athenril squeaked, coughing into her raised hand.  

“Yes.  It’s me.”

Athenril groaned out, her eyes flicked to the bedrolls where she saw Arianni sleeping, panic filling her as she looked up at Lena.  Her gaze narrowed, suspicious and hard.  “Why’d you save me?” Athenril stopped and furrowed her brows.  She was confused.  “What I did to you.  I-” Athenril broke out into more coughs but eventually settled down.  

Lena peaked at her, curious, before leaning to weigh her words.  “Oh I dunno.  Maybe because I'm a decent person, deep down.” She waved her hand, looking away.  “Unlike some people.” She added as a dig.  “I probably should have left you with Harlan.” Hand over her mouth, she watched Athenril’s gaze widened and again she looked toward Arianni.  Fear etched across her face.  

“But you know, after everything you put me through, after you threatened a _child_ to make me go with you to a cave where you then forced me to-” she looked up to make sure Arianni and Feynriel were still sleeping.  “- forced me to torture an _innocent_ man for information.” Lena felt a bitterness, anger and vengeful streak flare up.  She sneered down at Athenril.  It was hard not to lash out at Athenril, at least until she looked at her battered face.  So her teeth flashed as she grimaced and kept looking away, letting her anger bubble inside her.  “And then upon failing at getting said information you proceeded to trap me, set up lyrium to explode.”

Athenril released a sob, that drew Lena’s attention briefly but she turned away so as not to be side tracked or softened.  She needed to say this.  

“I’m sorry.” Athenril choked out.  

“You buried me alive in a mountain, _with lyrium._ ” Lena seethed, hand clenched.  She remembered the fear when she watched that torch fall into the lyrium, the panic as she tried to set free Brekker even if she should have secured herself first.  Fisting her hand, her nails etched into her tingling skin.  “You left me for _dead_.” She growled, her words turning guttural.  “Sorry does not cut it.” Lena’s breath hissed, eyes glowering.  Lena loomed over Athenril, now fully facing her, skin tingling as it pulsed with a faint blue glow and her voice was as powerful and as deep as the mountain.  “Your life is now _mine_.”

She expected Athenril to retaliate, to hiss at her or tell her to basically fuck off; instead the elven coterie burst into tears and choked on her snot.  

Lena froze.  She hadn’t done anything.  She hadn’t touched her and she was crying? For a few seconds, she sat there flummoxed by the woman whom she had once been terrified of.  The tables had turned only Lena wasn’t sure why Athenril was so scared of her now.

“G-go to sleep.” She muttered and crawled away from her, unsettled.  There was no sleep that night either.  Instead her fingers fisted into Happy’s bristles, making him purr.  

She’d done a lot of thinking, too much if you asked her.  Why would Athenril, and indeed Baltier and Brekker, betray Harlan.  Especially if Harlan was an apostate.  If they wanted money they could have easily overthrown him, or hell turned him to the Templars.  Of course with enough money you can have the templars turn a blind eye at any apostate.  Kirkwall was riddled with such things.  Idunna, even Tita - while not a mage - would have certainly garnered attention from the Templars.  

What did Harlan have on them that made them keep working for him? Likewise what did he have on them that powered them to betray him? There were a lot of possible reasons.  Especially given the results of his cruel acts on Athenril.  Lena really wouldn’t wish such treatment on anyone.  Her own little episode with Brekker not withstanding but even then it had been distant, cold and unfeeling.  She’d been disconnected and disassociated but she hadn’t been needlessly cruel.  Not until the very end with the fennec fox, and even then she stopped.  But brutalizing someone physically and - Lena felt bile on her tongue as she thought of what Harlan had done to Athenril.  What he did to Lusine on daily basis? Plus why Brekker hadn’t wanted to reveal when the next shipment was for fear of his family and Athenril had said something about Baltier’s own family.  Whatever it was, it must be worse than the cruelty they experienced.  It'd be a reason she'd want to get out from - no matter the cost.  

Desperation had a way of breaking down your morals, after all.  

“I think I understand now.” She muttered the next morning, after helping Athenril relieve herself.  They were both exhausted but they had food and water so while Lena powered through, she let Athenril sleep when she needed.  

Athenril looked at her confused.  “What?”

“The reason you were betraying him.  It was to get out of his employ right?” At Athenril’s grim expression, Lena pushed.  “You have a debt to him.” The silence from Athenril was telling.  “You all did - do.  Lusine, Baltier, Brekker - oh.” She pulled out the parchments from her pockets, and the necklace that contained her amulet and Brekker’s.  She had the locations memorized.  She’d have to find her way there or send someone she could trust.  And then, maybe find his family.  

“Yes.” Athenril whispered.  

“How much was it?” The following silence made Lena worry Athenril had fallen back asleep.  “Athenril?” When she didn't get an answer, she rose to go help Arianni with the next meal.  

“Some debts are are not so easily paid in coin.” The elf whispered too low for Lena hear.  

* * *

 

It was on the third night Lena left.  She’d felt she overstayed her welcome with Arianni.  Athenril had politely, if fearfully, told her she’d said nothing at all to Harlan and that she'd been quiet about most of it.  It was reassuring to note she’d be able to concoct a full fiction for Harlan.  She just hoped he’d believe it.  He better, why would she lie to him about Athenril burying her in the mountain with Brekker, falling down the shaft and the only way she survived was the hawk amulet.  

 _Hawke._ She pulled at her necklace.  The only reason she had survived that fall had been because hawks had reminded her of _Hawke._ She had a letter to send.  It was after all 9:27.  She just hoped it hadn’t yet happened yet.  If there was anything she could change and _should_ it’d be Malcolm Hawke.  

Lena stepped into the Alienage courtyard, looking up into the tree’s branches.  “Happy?” She cooed, searching for the spider.  There were other elves wandering about, arriving at the end of the day before the gates were closed.  Not locked, but closed.  

The spider didn’t appear, not immediately but she could see his dark shape crawling about.  He’d had a grand time chasing rats and other nasties, clearing the Alienage of its pests problems.  He was slow in descending.  His dark fur bristled as he used a silk thread to come down.  His abdomen looked slightly full to bursting.  

“You overfed didn’t you?  I hope you saved some for later.” She tutted as the spider approached.  

A tiny cluster of gasps had her turn to see a group of elf children staring at the spider as they returned from whatever little odd jobs they could do during the day.  One little elf was pale faced and wasn't staring at the spider but rather at Lena, her mouth gaping open in shock and large eyes filling with tears.  Lena tried to get a good look at her but she took off out of the Alienage.  She watched the girl run off but shrugged.  Happy was at her side, complacent and eyeing the children that kept their distance.  Fear evident in their eyes and postures.  

“She's not going to hurt you.  So long as you don't attack her, she won't hurt you.” She said and pet Happy’s favorite spot.  Amazing how she bonded with the spiders so quickly.  She'd always been like that.  Cats, dogs, snakes, birds.  Though with spiders back home she usually let them be so long as they didn't bother her.  She'd never have guessed _giant_ spiders would be similar to a cat or a dog in temperament.  One of the elf children reached out to pet Happy, tentative and cautious.  Lena made sure Happy was calm before letting the kid pet her.  She purred and then rubbed against the child.  There was a shocked gasp and then the kids was giggling.  Soon other children were reaching to pet the giant spider.  Happy purred and shuddered in delight, all eight legs curling under her and pedipalps raising up and down excitedly, one leg in particular tapped at the floor like a dog would.  Lena snorted, it was the single most adorable thing she’d seen a spider do.  

“Heh.  Alright.  That's enough.  I've got to go and I'm not leaving him behind.” She moved forward, the spider reluctantly followed after her.  

Lena wasn't sure where to head first.  The Hanged Man was closest, and she wanted to see Varric.  She just had a feeling if she saw him first she wouldn't go back to Harlan.  It would just be harder.  Sighing she ventured toward the stairs that would lead her up toward Hightown through Darktown.  She'd rather not take the stairs of doom.  

On the way she passed by Templars.  Specifically a very blonde and busty Templar with fancy headgear and armor.  She tensed when seeing Lena go past the stairs of doom with Happy at her side.  Lena looked the woman up and down, gaze lingering briefly on her bosom and smiling appreciatively.  She wasn't blind after all.  

“Good evening, my lady Templar.” She called with a smirk toward the Templar woman who sent her an amused and shocked look.  

“That's Knight Commander to you, _dwarf_.” One of the woman’s knight attendants barked at Lena, shifting and itching to attack the spider.  He did not let the spider out of his sights.  

 _Knight Commander?_ Lena took a longer look at the woman and stalled.   _Holy fuck.  What is up with Kirkwall and drop dead gorgeous older women?!_ Her mouth dropped.  “I-I apologize.  I meant no offense, Knight Commander Meredith.” She sputtered out.  

“No offense was taken, Messere…” Meredith waved her apology off with a grin.  

“Madame actually.  Madame Selena River.” Lena gave a slight bow, wary to keep the woman in her sights.  She didn't seem crazed or quite like the woman she remembers from the game.  She even looked different, younger - less crazed.  She attributed that to her lack of exposure to red lyrium and the stresses of the Mage uprising and Qunari invasion.  

“That is an unusual companion you have.” Meredith sent a cursory glance at Happy.  Lena grinned.  

“Ah yes.  Well.  I'm an unusual woman myself.” Lena added with a wink.  She bit the back of her tongue when Meredith’s brows rose and her Knight Captain shifted but she waved him off.   _Damnit, why must I flirt with every good looking dame._

“I apologize.  Again.  I seem to lose myself around beautiful women.” Lena said and immediately groaned but Meredith looked amused and dare she say, there was a slight flush to her cheeks.  “But I see you rather enjoy my compliments.” Lena sent another wink.  Meredith snorted and turned away with a laugh.  

“Have a good evening, Madame River.” She continued on, presumably toward the Gallows.  

“You as well, Knight Commander.  Knight Captain.” Lena took a long moment to appreciate the sway of Meredith’s hips before turning back to her mission on hand.  “Damn.  I've got a thing for blondes, I swear.” She huffed but ventured on.  

The Blooming Rose was in full swing when she walked in.  Happy had found a nice dark corner to do whatever spiders did when they weren't eating and demanding attention.  Lena passed through to the main show floor.  Most of the prostitutes were present, the rest were already serving in the rooms.

“Come in Messere.  If you want drinks, Quintus will serve but if you're looking for a good night you'll have to speak to Madam Lusine.” Came the tired pinched voice of Viveka who hadn't even looked toward Lena, but was present at the door whilst she served some ale.  

“Pretty sure I don't need Lusine's help with that.” Lena spoke with crosses arms.  

Viveka yelped upon really looking at her.  Face paling, her mouth gaped open before snapping shut.  

“You-you're supposed to be dead!” Viveka whispered and stumbled back.  

“I am?  Well gosh.  I guess I didn't get the memo about that.” Lena grinned wicked at Viveka who choked back a cry when Dopey made his appearance on her shoulder.  Viveka pointed at him and stumbled further away from Lena while making gasping frightened noises.

“What seems to be the matter girl?” Came the annoyed tone of Lusine who immediately stopped and took one look at Lena, her expression softening.  Her chest heaved a breath and very slowly she pulled Lena into a very polite if wildly unexpected hug, while also ignoring Dopey who scrambled back into her hair. “Thank the Maker.” She whispered with relief in her voice.  

“Aww.  Didn't know you cared.” Lena cooed, seeing Viveka’s face twist into something akin to jealousy at the open display of affection Lusine gave her.  She stuck her tongue out at the bookkeeper, relishing in this.  After all that time of her making Lena’s life hell, this was nice to see some payback thrown back on her.  “I actually need to speak with Harlan.  He should be expecting me.” Lena drew back.  

“No.” Lusine tensed, her grip on Lena’s shoulder tight.

“Yes.  I've paid off my debt and then some.  He owes me money.” Lena hissed with a grin.  Her hands rubbing together.  She actually couldn't wait for the coin given back.  It'd be a nice investment toward her plans with Bianca.  

“He's in the big room.” Viveka spat.

“Viveka!” Lusine admonished.  “No, you listen here, Lena.  Your debt is paid.  You flee and go while you can.” Lusine whispered to her, urging her toward the door.  

“Right.  Wish I could but I didn't save Athenril for no reason.  And he _is_ expecting me.  You telling me he won't hunt me down if I don't show?” She looked up at Lusine.  

“Athenril is alive?” The Madam asked with a small voice.  

“Yeah.  I got her away from Harlan and to the Alienage.  She's healing.”

Lusine looked torn and haunted.  “The poor girl.  I tried to- but.  Well you know Harlan.”

“Yes.  Now do excuse me.” Lena pulled away.  

“Be careful.” Lusine spoke.  “He is not a man to be trifled with.”

“Don't I know it.” Lena grumbled and walked toward the big room on the first floor.  

Lusine waited until Lena disappeared into the room before she scrambled up the stairs toward Denier’s serving room.  She burst through and ignored the Templar that squawked and tried to pull out of Denier who grunted, annoyed.  

“Lusine.  I'm working.” Denier grumbled, a sour look as he tried to soothe the Templar.  

“You're granted a short reprieve.”

“What?”

“I require you fetch Master Tethras this instant.”

“By the stone, woman.  Have you gone completely-”

“Lena is alive. She has just walked through our doors and is meeting with Harlan.” Lusine stared at Denier. “ _Alone_.” She stressed the word.  

There were a myriad of emotions that flittered over Denier’s eyes but the most prominent were amazement, shock, and then dread.  

“Fuck.” He stumbled into his pants.  “Sorry lad, next time.” He told the Templar.  

“But I paid!”

“I'll give you a refund.” Lusine shushed the Templar who glowered after Denier.  

“Damn dwarf.  More trouble than she's worth.”

* * *

 

“Nika! Nika I saws her.  I swear.  I saws her.  She was right there!” Merry pointed at the tree and stamping her foot.  

Nika stared at the tree, forlorn and bundled up in new clothes that Messere Tethras and Brother Vael had bought for her.  Brother Vael came to the orphanage everyday to check on her and gave her, Merry, and Rorrik clothes.  The Matron wasn't pleased but she said nothing as Brother Vael doted on her.  It was odd having the adults take care of her and be so nice.  But she was warm for once every night and always had a good meal.  Messere Tethras had told her that if she and Merry and Rorrik ever needed to, they could ask Norah for scraps if Matron Tonya didn't let her eat.  

This was all because that dwarf lady, Lena, had tried to help her.  And what ended up happening? She died because Nika led a mean elf to her.  Her bottom lip quivered as she turned away from the tree.  

“You're mean, Merry.  She's _dead_.” Nika stated.  

“But I saws her! With a spider, a big one! And she was there and… Nika I swear I saws her!” Merry pleaded while shaking Nika but she shook her head and drew away.

“M-Messere Varric and Brother Vael said sh-she’s dead.” She stomped away, tears threatening to fall.  “Is my fault.” Breath hitching she ran from the alienage.  

Usually Merry tried to eat early supper at the Alienage because they needed to make sure Rorrik and Ped ate.  But today she returned to the orphanage early, shaking and excited.  Merry said she had seen Lena.  But that was impossible! She died!

Nika ran, great large tears dropping as her shoes slapped against the stone.  She ran right past the orphanage and to the Hanged Man.  Running right into someone and she didn’t even apologize.  Norah wasn’t working then but she didn’t need permission to run up the stairs, not anymore.  Her hand slapped against the door, on the cusp of bawling.  

“Barric! Barric!” Nika cried, sobbing as she pounded on the door.  Each slap became lighter and lighter as she slumped into a shivering ball.  

The door opened and the dwarf in question started upon seeing Nika crying.  He was disheveled looking, his shirt wrinkled and pants barely pulled up.  His jaw and chin had more than just scruff smattering across it, and his eyes were hollow.  

“Hey.  Nika, what’s wrong?” His voice was rough, and garbled a slight.  Nika threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his neck.  Varric stumbled back but drew her into the room, leaving the door open as he sat.  

“Varric?” Came Bianca’s voice.  The female smith was dressed, pristine looking and pulling her leather jacket on.  They’d been interrupted by the frantic pounding on the door. Bianca had been worried it would be her father or mother looking for her so she quickly dressed.

“Oh.” She paused seeing the small girl in his lap.  His fingers tracing over her back soothing.  

“Its alright.” He muttered, looking over Nika at Bianca, apologizing.  They’d been in the middle of something when he’d heard the pounding at the door, he rushed out to grab his crossbow but then he heard the crying at the door. Needless to say, he never pulled his trousers on fast enough.

“I should go.” Bianca scrunched her nose and turned away.  She wasn’t overly fond of the idea of children, much like Lena was - had been as she’d learned.  

Varric didn’t even try to stop her, but he did watch her go.  It's been a trying week for Varric.

“What's got you upset, Nika?” He asked. He felt partially responsible for her.  If only because Lena had wanted to protect her.  If he was honest, he had noticed the mistreatment of specific orphans but he'd kept his distant for a tricky reason. That reason stood about three feet high and was barely six years old. He really didn't want the kid to notice their similarities. That would cause all sorts of questions that Varric wasn't prepared for.

Funny how Lena just happened to make him involved even if it's still an indirect way.

Nika mumbled something into his neck but he chuckled wearily.

“Try again, I didn't hear you.” He pulled her off him. “Take a breath. Go on.” He watched her take a steady breath but she was still in the midst of sobbing. He didn't have a handkerchief on hand so he simply wiped her tears with his thumbs.

“Merry said- she said -hic- she said she s-saw ‘ena!” Nika mumbled and burst into a fresh wave of tears. Her grey skin even paler. “But ‘ena’s dead! I killed her!”

Guilt gnawed at his stomach. Another reason why he was now involved with the kid. She blamed herself for Lena’s death.

“No. You didn’t. You know this, Nika.” He assured her but there was no convincing her otherwise.

He let her cry, it was better to let her run out of tears first and exhaust herself. When little Nika was reduced to sniffles and rubbing at her eyes tiredly, he rose and walked out of his room with her in his arms. He patted her back in soothing circles. He made eye contact with Corff who nodded. He set Nika in her own little room. It was one door down from his. Varric set her into her own little cot and pulled a blanket over her.

Varric ran his fingers through his hair tiredly and closed the door.  He walked back to his room where he pulled out some dwarven ale and poured himself a mug. He didn't smell it but took a great gulp before slumping into his chair. He released a long sigh as he picked up a quill.

He had a handful of chapters written about _The Rogue Madame_. He shuffled through the papers, little conversations and tales she’s had around Kirkwall. He’d added a few more. The Rogue Madame and the case of the Discharged Templar, The Rogue Madame and the Prince, and the Rogue Madame’s Day Off. He wondered if his editor would appreciate these. He added one final chapter. It would really tie the story into his style. Everything always ended in tragedy after all.

He set quill to parchment.

_Like any native born Kirkwaller could tell you, if you make a name for yourself in the undercity, you’re bound to make friends - and enemies. The Rogue Madame had crossed one too many people -_

The door to his room was pounded on again. Rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes he rose but it burst open before he could reach it and in tumbled Denier.

* * *

 

Varric pushed the meeting room door open without so much as waiting for an invitation in but he faltered upon seeing her. She was alive and standing there, facing Harlan completely unfazed and - _oh no_ \- she was shaking his hand and nodding.

“You’ve got a deal.” She said.

He meant to yell at her angrily but part of it came out warbled as his throat tightened and tears burned - threatening to fall. He felt like he could cry, bawl as much as Nika had but his sobs were knocked from him when Selena - _maker damned_ \- River faced him. His anger at her fled him as a great many things clicked into place but most importantly was that: One, she hadn’t died in the mountain; Two, she survived over exposure to lyrium; Three, she had been missing for seven days without food or water in a mountain. How had she survived?!

“Oh, _Varric_.” She looked at him with the smile she had given him last time he saw her.  Perfectly straight teeth that barely peeked out between her luscious startling rosy pink lips that glistened as her tongue nervously licked them. The familiar come hither look to her eyes as she feasted on the sight of him hungrily. Only it was sharper once he gazed into them; she looked _ravenous_. And then he got a really good look at her. Her cheeks had a slight gaunt look to them, dark circles under her hooded eyes that peered up at him as she bit her thumb. She was even more exhausted than before and hungry but all at the same time there was something incredibly alluring about her.

He blinked, remembering why he had rushed here and verbally growled at Harlan. Lena’s cheeks flushed pink at the sound and Varric had a hard time turning from her at the way her gaze darkened as she trailed up his arms, which were exposed. Varric’s throat went dry at all the things that lingering leer promised she would do. He was intimately aware of how she inched closer to him.

“What deal did she make with you?” He glowered at Harlan, pulling Bianca up in case he needed to stress his point.

“That’s between me and her.” Harlan smirked and sat down in his chair. The room came into focus, Varric hadn’t noticed the other Coterie branch heads that were present.

“Pft. I’ll be telling him later anyway.” Lena’s voice wasn’t nearly as sweet when she spoke to Harlan, if anything it took a guttural throaty quality that sent shivers up his spine.  Varric couldn’t tell if it was a pleasant shiver.

 _Something_ had happened to Selena.

“ _Your_ _lady_ ,” Harlan smirked as he implicated Varric.

“What?” Lena whispered confused, her glare focused on Varric.

“Has decided to lead up the more financial aspects of the Coterie for me.” Harlan shrugged. “She turned down becoming my right hand.”

“I wouldn’t want to, you abuse yourself with it. Probably _nightly._ ” Lena snarked with a cruel grin. Harlan sent her a withering look that she matched. The other Coterie branch heads in the room snorted with laughter, but the women - such as Lilly - gave each other knowing looks. “Whatever, yeah so I’ll be keeping the books. Big whoop. Lets go.” Lena waved her hands to dismiss the subject.

“By all means.” Harlan ducked his head.

“I’m telling Viveka the _fantastic_ news. We had a deal!” She shouted behind her shoulder as she marched past Varric and out of the large room and nearly bumped into Denier who yanked her into a hug.

“Oof.”

“Blasted sister,” Denier growled.

“Missed you too, brother.” Lena chuckled.

Varric watched her, closely. She swayed on her feet but her eyes were focused, displaying a mental sharpness he didn’t think she would have given the physical signs of her exhaustion and hunger. He blamed the lyrium. The lyrium had to have done something to her.  Although admittedly he was glad it hadn’t addled her or ripped her personality from her.

“Hug over. Please excuse me, I have some petty revenge to take delight in.” Lena pulled away from Denier and Varric. She ran to the main show room, barreling toward Viveka with purpose and a wicked devious grin. Denier and Varric watched her deliver the news to Viveka with a chipperness.

“She seems, alright, if a bit…” He didn’t have to say it because Lena’s cackle carried over the sound of the Rose patrons as Viveka called for Lusine whilst throwing a fit.

* * *

 

“Lena, you look like you’ve been trampled by a bronto.” Serendipity cooed, brushing her fingers through Selena’s hair in an attempt to tame the wild mane it had become. Yet when she stuck her fingers into it to detangle it she jolted back, shocked. “What is that?”

“Huh?” Lena looked up from her plate, where she pushed around the large chunk of roast ram around. He met Varric's gaze who looked down at her plate, worry furrowing his brows. Selena wanted to show him she was alright but she really couldn't eat much more. Her stomach had shrunk in a little over a week of not eating anything but lyrium and mushrooms. The later being poisonous. Swallowing she picked up the roast leg and took a hefty bite, not all that interested in eating more but she chewed it, extra slowly and counted to one hundred before she swallowed. Thankfully, Varric looked a little bit relieved.

“Lena? There is something in your hair! It bit me.” Serendipity whispered.

“Oh. Yeah. That's just Dopey, he's made a nest in there.” Lena said shrugging as she pushed her plate away. She really couldn't eat more. Her stomach was starting to hurt. And even though the food looked delicious, she was going to have to throw it away. It's not like Happy or Dopey ate chunks of cooked flesh. She wished there were such things as refrigerators here.  It was a shame to waste food.  

“What?” Came three voices around the small table in a private corner of the Rose. Lena didn't want to leave just yet, because the second they were behind closed doors she knew either Denier of Varric would demand an explanation for how she survived and she didn't want to think about. She wanted to put everything that happened behind her. Except the part about the mushrooms and the spiders.

“His name is Dopey. Well. Actually I think it's a _he_ \- not entirely sure to be honest.” She muttered and reached into her hair and made tapping sounds against her teeth so the vibrations would reach him. She felt Dopey tap to the rhythm against her skull and then ventured out to her outstretched hand. Serendipity, Denier, and even Varric recoiled a bit until they saw how easily she held him without fear.

“I made a bunch of friends during...my time away. This is one of them. He or she is still a spiderling. I call it Dopey because he likes making nests in my hair and thus far catches a ride on top of me.  Kinda troublesome when the flies and other nasties get caught in there.” She muttered, petting Dopey’s white bristled fur with the blue and green tips. Squinting she eyed the green parts. There hadn't been green tips before.

“You have a pet spider.” Denier looked at her.

“Well not really a pet? And it's spiders. Plural. There's another one but she's outside in some dark corner or chasing rats or something.” She scratched Dopey's sides gently. There was a faint barely heard purr. “It's not like I domesticated them or anything.” She placed Dopey back in her mane. Dip refrained from getting to close to her.

“You’ve _befriended_ spiders?” Varric questioned as he subconsciously reached into his jacket but came away empty. His brows furrowed.

“Aye.” Lena tilted her head. “Is it that weird?”

“Yes.” Serendipity answered.

“A tad.” Denier added.

“Marginally.” Varric sipped his ale, fingers itching to write.

“Duly noted. I’d keep them hidden but… Happy is sort of hard to hide.”

“Happy?” Varric was curious now. If Dopey was the one in her hair, then Happy was the one outside.

“Yeah, he’s bigger than Dopey.”

“Bigger?”

Lena’s grin widened. “Yeah lets go meet him!” She didn’t wait for them to answer and took off, leaving behind a few coins on the table, her bag that contained a box of coins, including her very hefty share of _twenty sovereigns_ that Harlan had paid her for finding out the ‘truth’ about Baltier Brekker’s betrayal.

Darting out of the Rose, she looked up toward the roofs. “Oh my little Parkour spider, where did you go.” She called out into the now night air.

“Lena, you can’t be serious about a _bigger_ spider. That’d make it a -” Varric was hot on her tail. But Denier and Serendipity had not followed. Likely because they still had to work, Lena rationalized. She felt a bit of panic once it settled in that she was alone with Varric. She wasn’t ready to talk.

“Giant spider.  Yes I’m fully aware. Oh you should see him, Happy is just _adorable_.” Lena cooed and then made the tap-taptap-tap motion on the floor as she approached a darker alley.

“Lena-” He reached for her shoulder but she slipped out of his grasp and further into the alley. “ _Selena._ ” He stressed staring at her, pausing at the entrance as she stilled. She had entered a deadend alley. There was no escape for her.

“He should be around here.” She muttered and looked up.

“ _Selena_.” Varric stressed, wanting her to look his way but she didn’t - on purpose. “I thought you had died.” He whispered

“Well I didn’t -” She turned to him with a smile but it faltered upon catching sight of his serious and somber expression. Shifting her feet she looked away.

“How?”

Cringing, she turned away. “Lets go try another alley, Happy likes the rooftops-” She tried to walk past Varric but he didn’t let her, trapping her in his arms against the wall. “Varric?” Her eyebrow quirked up suggestively as her gaze darkened and flicked up to look at him. Her chest arched up against him. He became painfully aware she wasn’t wearing a breast band as the swell and weight of her breasts moved freely as she drew him closer. His groans matched her moan.

With nostrils flaring, he was tempted to just kiss her and let the moment pass but he wanted to know. “I-”

“Can we just skip ahead and get to the part where you get your dick out?” Lena tried, desperately with a smirk.

“ _Selena._ ” He growled and her body shivered. He drew away, disgusted in himself that he nearly pressed his knee between her legs. “Can’t you for once-”

“No. No I can’t Okay. I’m don’t want to talk about it.” She snapped.

“You’ve got to. You were surrounded by lyrium.”

“Stop it.”

“Lena.”

“I said stop it. I don’t-”

“Just tell me-”

“For fuck’s sake Varric! Do you really want me to talk about this?!” She seethed, angry at him.

“I do.”

“Five sovereigns.” She spat out, angry and knowing he wouldn’t. She grinned a cruel triumphant smile at him. He wouldn’t take it. It’d be akin to treating her like a prostitute.  She’d get to move on to the fun stuff.

Varric looked away, enraged. He pushed off her and stalked out of the alley. Lena released a sigh, head resting against the wall and eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she looked up at the roofs to see a familiar dark shadow. She smiled and walked deeper into the alley when Varric’s hand gripped her shoulder, turned her and pulled her flush against his chest. Her hands instinctively went to run through his chest hair when hot lips pressed against her own.

“Hmm.” She moaned, fingers trailing up his chest to his scruffy chin but he pulled her hand away and pressed five coins into her palm. She yanked out of the kiss and away from him, gaping at the five gold crowns and then into his sad yet determined expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misleading summary is misleading. HAVE SOME ANGST, PAIN, AND SUFFERING! 
> 
> I'm a terrible person. I know. I do not apologize for this.


	25. A Tearful Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena artfully dodges answering any question at all. Tears are a beautiful distraction.

The door clicked shut behind her softly, her footsteps sluggish and heavy as she crossed to the familiar table where Varric sat at the head of with a mug of ale - the strong stuff.  That caught her off guard. In the entire six months - almost seven - she’s known him she has never seen him drink anything stronger than what she’d call beer. The Hanged Man’s ale was low quality akin to grain juice with a spit of alcohol. But the stuff he was drinking was the stuff Lena got drunk on at the monthly dwarva meetups. Lena has an exceptionally high tolerance alcohol, so do many dwarva apparently, otherwise Dwarvhen ale wouldn’t have made her tipsy much less drunk, but it did. So seeing Varric drinking, unsettled her and made the whole situation seem that much more severe.

She'd taken her sweet time in coming to the Hanged Man after he had dropped those five sovereigns in her palm. Five crowns that burned her palm and made her bag feel heavier with each step and thought of what they meant.

She could have avoided this conversation further and just stayed at the Rose but Varric had her stuff. Or she hoped he still had it. She took a quick sweep of the room and saw her bags. They did look a bit empty but for the most part she could see them. She just remembered leaving fruits and wires on the table with the rune of electricity connected to her iPad. Hopefully he hadn't looked at her tablet or gained access to it. Although they might be having a different conversation if he had.

“Sit.” Varric murmured as he drained his mug and poured another.

Lena shifted but dropped her bag full of coins down and sat as far from Varric as possible. He gave her an unamused look for a long time. Her insides twisted up, guilty for intentionally being difficult. She huffed and moved to a closer seat.

The air was thick and heavy with silence between them. Only the faint sounds of the Hanged Man’s patrons and the crackle of the fire at the hearth filled the room. Lena looked everywhere but at him, at least until his hand grabbed hers. She flinched, meaning to draw away but he pressed her hand against his cheek and drew her attention.

Varric’s gaze glistened in the low light, watery with unshed tears. Just seeing him on the cusp of crying made Lena want to draw away, turn and give him privacy.  Especially so when the back of her nose tingled and burned as she held back her own tears. Realization that she was here and not back in the tunnels; she was safe and away from the titan’s song, the slime, and the suffocating darkness. She pulled her hand back but he wouldn't let go as her eyes bubbled with angry tears.

 _No. Don't cry_. She lifted her head, to swallow her tears and sniff the budding leak back. _Do. Not. Cry._  She yelled at herself. Shame burned at her cheeks as the first drop fell across her cheek and rolled down. She wiped at it angrily with her free hand, lips pressed tight so she didn't make a sound. She already regretted crying in front of Varric once, she didn't want to do it again.

“Oh Selena.” He called to her, anguished as she fought her tears. “What happened?”

“N-nothing.” She tried to seeth but her voice warbled and a lump bubbled in her throat as the first sob broke through. And once the gate had been breached, it began to flood. Another soon followed and she was weeping. Tears made her vision blur and her mouth opened but no sound came out as she tried to tighten her throat. _No! No don't cry. Stop it._ She shook her head and tried to pull away as snot and tears leaked, her face scrunching up and heated with embarrassment. When Varric wouldn't let up she used her free hand to cover herself to cry into her arm but Varric grabbed that arm as well. Releasing a shuddering gasp, she pushed her chair back meaning to try to escape but he pulled her to him with a yank and she tumbled into his arms and lap. The dam broke and she didn't try to fight it anymore as he held her.

 _Obnoxious attention seeker._ The words burned into her head - years of conditioning back home to make her feel shame for daring to cry in front of anyone. She couldn't stop crying though but she curled up straddling Varric’s lap and buried her face into his neck, sobbing in an uncontrollable manner.

In less than a day, he had another person crying in his arms. Only he joined Lena in this one, unintentionally. But his tears were silent.

 _She's alive._ He told himself. _She's here. In your arms. Safe._

An hour after, her breath evened out and body went slack. She was much larger and heavier than Nika, but he still lifted and carried her to his bed. Varric took care to shush her when she protested sleepily, even as he tucked her under his blankets. With gentle movements, he removed her boots but stopped short of removing her pants. He recalled she preferred to sleep in the nude, but he didn’t think it was entirely appropriate but perhaps halfway would be enough.

Carefully, with eyes flicking up to check that she was still asleep - lest she wake and think his actions untoward - he undid the laces on her trousers and slid them down halting when he was faced with how little she had worn under the tunic and pants. He didn't dally but pulled off her pants. Once she was more comfortable she rolled over onto her side and twisted her lower body so her legs spread out. She tucked her hands under her head.

Any other time, he would have done something to tease her and relieve some of the building pressure in his own trousers but he pushed them aside. Now was not the time.

Varric let her be in just her tunic, turning to get ready for bed himself. He swayed a tad. He hadn’t been sleeping well either, if at all the last week. He had been so close to getting to Lena and then she’d been ripped away from him. A loss he did not handle well, given he had worked through a fair amount of his personal collection of Orzammar’s finest dwarvhen ale. Many of which had been his mother’s.

At the thought, he made a disgusted noise. It wasn’t directed at him drinking his mother’s ale but at how low he had stooped. He collected the goblets that littered across his room and set them on the table for Norah to collect in the morning. Her and Corff had been ensuring he’d at least had a meal with his ale. He made a mental note to buy them both something they needed. Maybe order their favorite brew from Nevarra, special ordered.  He picked up the long abandoned quill to write it down as a reminder when a horrified yell had him sprinting the short distance to his bed.

Lena lay in the bed, hands fisted in the sheets and brows furrowed tight. Her shoulders shook and he spied the tears tracking down her cheeks. Whimpers spilled forth from her and she tossed and turned, muttering “No, please.”

Varric’s breath pulled in harsh. Quickly he shucked his shoes off and climbed in. Gently, ever so gently he pulled Lena into his arms. Her body taut with fear but he whispered, “I’ve got you.  Selena, shh. You’re safe. You’re here with me.” He whispered softly and under his breath. She stiffened once he tried to pull her but calmed when he spoke, the furrows in her brows smoothing.  

“Varric?” her voice cracked as red rimmed eyes stared up at him.

“I’ve got you. Your memories are just shaping wrong.” He muttered as she stirred, trying to pull away.

“Wha-” her lips mumbled into his chest, but her breathing evened out quickly as she plunged into sleep again. He held her, not once thinking to let her go.  Warm breath against his skin, her heart beat steady as he listened.

He was close enough to smell her, it was an earthly unwashed and yet entirely womanly scent that tickled his nose. It tingled a faint sort of feeling that called deep down, but he ignored it - brushing it off as his exhaustion. There was a humming sort of scent and sound to her, reminiscent to the sort he could detect around Templars. He had a feeling the lyrium had done something to her.

When she started to snore, he adjusted the position of her head and slipped down to watch her sleep.

 _It’s not creepy._ He reassured himself as he gazed at her. Movement from her mane of hair however let him know that spider of hers was still there. It’s white spindly legs peeked out and its unnaturally blue eyes blinked at him before it ascended out of her hair and onto the wall. He did not move a single inch but watched as the spider disappeared into some dark corner of the room.

He did not want to think of it watching in the dark so Varric focused on the woman before him. But that only lasted for so long as the even inhale and exhale of her breath lulled him to sleep. His hand reaching for hers to convince him she was there, before he let himself fully fall asleep, his own memories of the day taking shape behind his eyelids.

* * *

 

 

Her dreams were fitfully long and terrifying.  At one point she remembered hearing nothing but the sinking silence - her heart pounding against her ribcage as she could swear she heard the song, the Titan’s song reaching out to her across their connection to take hold of her. She tried to fight it, lyrics coming to mind but then there were words. Spoken, gentle and soft - soothing in her ear.  The deep rumble and scrap of chest and jaw hair against her skin and a warm hot body pulling her close.  Warmer and softer and yet also hard as she pressed closer and closer. It was not like The spiders, bristly and harsh but this was soft - comforting.

Lena stared up amazed at Varric’s face as he slept, the morning light filtered through the open window and basked them in a warm glow. The sky, oh she missed the sky.  She wanted to go out there and stare up at the sky and sunbath, but there was something better in front of her - infinitely nicer to be so close to him. Being able to see in the light and see the colors around her and not the muted grey and black of the tunnels. She could smell the warmth, the wood and smoke. The taste of the environment red and orange and gold. Burying her nose into his neck, she inhaled his masculine scent. Sweat, musk, parchments, fire, smoke, and ale.  A lot of ale but she ignored it in favor of this familiar warmth and welcoming touch.

“Varric?” She muttered, wanting to feel his skin against her own. She couldn’t remember why she had avoided him for those few days, not when this felt _so_ good to be near him - safe and secure tucked against him. Lena was in this bed with him, and not - _not_ \- in the tunnels again. She was free of that endless nightmare.

“ _You think you’ve escaped?_ ” A sharp pinched voice cooed behind her. Stiff and cold was the faint recognizable voice. “ _You’ll never be free._ ”

She came face to face with the half bashed visage of Petrice, her blonde hair red, bloody and sticky. It dropped dripped dripped over the sheets and dirtied them.  Petrice clawed close and at her.

Lena jerked back, reaching for Varric, but he wasn’t there instead lay a large expanse of a man with two blind eyes staring unseeing and all seeing at her - Baltier.

“ _We’ll always be here, with you._ ” He pulled a knife from his eyes and offered it to her. She grabbed it and turned it back on him, stabbing and stabbing

“ _For we watch and we wait._ ” His voice husked, gurgling as crimson liquids spilled and splattered, coating her.  She drew away from his still form and right into Petrice’s hovering one, sharp nails raking across her skin. They bashed against her ribs, tearing flesh from her. Andraste’s form in her hands she batted her away, crushing every last inch of her.

“ _Waiting, always waiting. The dust has settled._ ” Brekker’s voice drew her gaze to the door. “ _Did you think it wouldn’t. Soon you’ll see, soon you’ll hear._ ”

Lena gave a cry and launched at him. “Shut up! No!” She bashed him.

_“Bloody.”_

_“Dirty.”_

_“Filthy.”_

_“The song returns.”_ They spoke in unison.

“No.” But she couldn’t hear her own voice. The hymn rumbled. “Stop!” She scrunched her eyes closed and slapped her hands over her ears. But they were gone and it was dark. Crippling cold and it howled. It stoppered and she tried to scream but nothing. Hands at her throat, squeezing - suffocating - she stilled sobbing. Selena ran struggled against the flesh, it rumbled and burred.

The hymn soared and rattled. She felt herself slipping as she tried to scream but she made not a sound and her throat ran dry and cracked. She sobbed - sagging into a corner. The shadowed stillness came for her.

“Selena.” Sharp short bristles rubbed against her, the deep purring and rumbling sounded. Vibrations and frequency blocking the song. They stopped and she cried, grabbing - clinging onto them, pressing her ear against them. Warm flesh with a deep beat. It thumped and thudded. She could hear it, feel the rush of his blood beneath his skin.  It was deafening even as he spoke.

“Hey...Selena.I’m here. What do you need? Tell me, let me help you.” He pleaded.

His voice was deep and lyrical but _different_ than the mountain. Similar, like an ancient call but it was disconnected, unharmonious. She liked it - loved it - needed it. His skin was rough, hard but it was warm -  she sought more skin, because it was him - his heart and voice that grounded her. She needed to feel him, to hear him. It could not become quiet, the silence was too stiff and tortuous. “Don’t… don’t let it go too quiet.” She muttered, pleading.

“Alright.” He gave a low sigh. “Just come back to bed.” He requested.

 _Bed?_ Lena blinked and she was staring out of the darkness into the sun, toward him. His golden eyes like sunlight reaching, penetrating her dark shield. His skin glowed like the star and his hair was vibrant. It _hurt_ to see someone so bright and so close. But she grabbed onto him, let him pull her into the light. It hurt, _it hurt_ deep in her cavernous chest where it clenched and twisted with guilt. But it was so warm and soft. She wanted to protect this light, keep it safe.  There was so much darkness coming for him.

He spoke to her. Low and against her ear. He spoke of his childhood.

“Bartrand and I used to get along, believe it or not.” He spoke fondly. “We’d play warriors and rogues in the cellar. He’d protect me from the spiders and the crawlies, swinging his hammer around. It was too dark for my liking though.  When I asked if we could go to the garden, he said no he liked it down there better. He never much liked going outside, the sky frightened him. _Too vast. Too open_. _I’ll float away!_ He’d say. But he never did.” Varric snorted. He wove tales of his youth, the one time they fought an imaginary giant flying nug, of the adventures in the deep of the cellar and in the dark - even if he was afraid of the dark and had begged his brother to go outside in the day where the sun shone. But no matter how often Varric asked - Bartrand refused. The stories grew less wistful and adorable and more bitter sounding as he continued.

“He talked about life in Orzammar every chance he got, always asking…” He sighed. “...always asking mother when we’d go back. He had friends, kids his age like him he wanted to see again. Mother had to tell him we weren’t allowed back in Orzammar.” Varric’s words took a hard edge. “Bartrand tried to teach me about Orzammar, about the stone sense. But I was born on the surface, I don’t have one. Never did. I think when he realized that, that is when he stopped playing with me, when it finally sunk in that was _different_ than him.” A deep bitterness etched across his voice. “He started ignoring me. I didn’t have many friends when I was younger, only my brother and then he left me alone.”

“He was a fool. I’d have played with you.” Lena spoke against his skin.

“Of course you would have.” His chuckle rumbled, pleased but it was vapid.  

“No child deserves to be ignored, especially by their siblings.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“...” Lena burrowed against his chest. “Yes.”

“Tell me?”

“It’s…” She chewed her lip to say she couldn’t, she felt his shoulders sag already accepting. _Fuck it._ “My older sister and I used to get along, probably as well as you and Bartrand did.”

“Do you get along as well as Bartrand I do now?”

“Probably worse. We didn’t speak to each other for three years.” Lena lips quirked intoa  smirk but it was hollow - sad. Disagreements that led to her and her sister no longer speaking, feuds involving their parents and societal norms that kept them separate - both too proud to take the extra necessary step to reach out and apologize.  But neither would deprive the children, her niece and nephew of their aunt - their _Tia._ Of course, it was her brother-in-law that asked her to babysit during that time.

“When we were kids, we shared everything. And by share I mean, I got all her hand me downs, toys, clothes, everything she once used even a little bit she gave to me. Not at all because I was her little sister but because I wanted it. I was, for a time her little doll, a precious and sweet living doll. It’s how my mother got her to be gentle with me. So naturally, I ended up turning cruel as a kid, barely three years old and I’d hit hit her if she had something I wanted, and she wasn’t allowed to touch me. She took my abuse. One time, my sister had taken the last banana that I had wanted and I punched her - me a little tiny three year old - and I was _very_ tiny then.”

“As if you’re not now?”

“Hey!” Lena pouted.

“What? For a dwarf your age, you’re actually quite short. And we’re dwarva...we’re short compared to everyone.” Varric teased.

 _Don’t I know it._ Lena huffed but shrugged. “My age?” She grumbled. “Anyway, I’d hit her in the face and she would do nothing.” Lena smiled, fondly.

Varric chuckled. “You were a little terror.”

She huffed, tired. “Eventually, mother told her she could hit back, so she did. I stopped bullying her. But I followed after her still, she didn’t care for me much. I was her little tagalong. I suppose it got worse when my studies began and I showed remarkably more skill in them. I received praise and attention when it came my studies, my parents got me a special tutor. She ignored me and started taking back her toys until all I had left were my books. I didn’t do a lot of playing outside after that.” She sighed wistful. “Or spent much time with her unless absolutely necessary.”

“We’re a pair, you and I.” He whispered into her neck where he lay a light kiss.  It tingled across her skin, shivering down her back pleasantly.

“Varric.” Her moan filtered out, but he did nothing else. “What did you do for fun after your brother...?”

Varric paused for a long time. Too long, Lena whined if only to fill the silence. “My mother took it upon herself to keep me entertained. She'd tell me stories about the ancestors and paragons. Most of them unbelievable. Especially about _living paragons._ They always seemed too tantamount to have stayed alive. She was always telling me stories.”

“So you could say, you became a storyteller because of her?” Lena smiled, imagining young Varric and his mother reading to him.

“Yeah.” His throat sounded heavy. She didn’t push for more and instead took comfort in the sound of his breathing. Selena found he had a wistful yet sober look to him.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” She nuzzled against him. “And…” Her brows furrowed. “Sorry about screaming and being weird about…” She trailed off. She had a nightmare and he had been there to comfort her and draw her out of it, as though he expected it. That didn't make sense. Dwarva didn't dream- right? Frowning, she tucked herself closer to Varric - thought it was getting difficult without straddling him and tearing off their clothes.

“Don't worry, Lena. Will you tell me what you shaped about?” His fingers pressed to her scalp, rubbing the sensitive skin, inciting a pleased gasp from her. “It sounded _intense_.”

“Shaped?” Lena mouthed.

“I understand if you're not ready but you need to talk about it - eventually.” Varric spoke over her head.

“I-” _Is he talking about about my dreams?_  “I-” she cut off again as she thought about it. He seemed entirely cavalier about her dreaming. What is shaping? Did he mean like the Shaperate?

Pulling sharply back, she made to ask but stopped.

“What is it?”

“I...I just realized something.” _What if dwarves dreamed, only it's not called dreaming because it has nothing to do with the fade?!_ All that fretting, prolonging sleep in his presence.

“What?” Varric pressed. “Did you realize how handsome I am?” He tried to joke but when she didn't respond, he got worried. “Lena?”

“No well yes. You're _very_ handsome _._ ” She agreed, but ducked her head down, tucking beneath his chin. “I'm just a little slow right now. Sorry I want to sleep some more. Can I?” Glossy eyes widened up at him.

“I won't stop you.” His relieved smile stretched as he stifled a yawn. “Actually, I may join you.”

“Yeah? Sleep with me?”

“Gladly.”

She had another bad “shape” but Varric whispered to her, bringing her back to herself. She was dozing comfortably in the warmth of light when he pulled away, leaving her cold until he tucked the blankets and furs closer around her, entrapping her in heat.

“Stay put. Going to get us something to break our fast.” He whispered softly.

Varric snuck out of the room, wondering just how long he could leave her there before her memories took hold of her again. He wished she would talk about it so it’d be easier to lay it to rest, but he understood these things took time.

Norah had come and cleared the empty mugs. He went to the water basin that she had also refilled and cleaned up, freshening up his mouth with the teeth powders and giving a good brush across them, spitting. He considered shaving but it’d take too much time, plus Lena quite liked it when he let it grow out just a little to rub against her - even if he really wanted to get rid of it.

“Norah! Corff!” He stepped down, lightly to the Hanged Man. “I owe you and Corff something shiny and expensive,” he greeted them both with a grin.

“Nice to see you up and about before noon, Varric.” Norah smiled wide, the worry that had her fretting was gone but he could see she was tentative.

“I thought you wouldn’t be up until much later actually.” Corff smiled, a knowing grin. “On account of a certain lass in your quarters.”

“Corff, you know we shouldn’t talk about Bia-”

“Not her.” Corff grinned.

“Then who?” Norah sent Varric a curious look.

“She survived, apparently.” Varric offered, cryptically. Norah’s gaze squinted as she consider his words. Varric took pity on her. “Lena.”

“Oh come now, she almost had it.”

“Lena?! Truly?” Norah clapped her hands but sent questioning look to Corff who nodded. Varric noted it.

“Saw her come in myself last night.”

“Oh this- Oh is she?  Is she quite alright? I remember you said something about…” Norah trailed off.

“She’s fine. All there, if a bit well that was seven days trapped alone. You can’t expect anyone to not come out of that at least a little bit changed.” Varric frowned but shook his head.

“Poor thing. How’re you holding up, dear?”

“Well. I’ve a bit of hangover. You wouldn’t happen to be-”

“I’ll get started on Hanged Mash right away.” Norah added gleefully and picked up her shawl. “Just need to pick up a few things.”

“Put it on my-”

“Bill? Nonsense. It’s just so good to see you in better spirits.” Norah bent down and hugged him. “You had us worried. Now just stay put.”

“Actually, you wouldn’t happen to know what Lena’s favorite dishes are?” Varric asked softly. He had to dig up those slips of papers he’d won during Wicked Nuts and collect on them. In all the time he and Selena had dinners, he never could get it out of her.  They’d have braised ram pie, cobblers, roasts, and all sorts of sandwiches but she savored every dish in the same way and ate with a gusto and appreciation. He just assumed she had never had the dish in question but then stuffed nug was a Marcher favorite. He’s not met anyone who hadn’t had stuffed nug and she claimed it had been the first time she’d had it.

“I know just the thing.” Norah headed out of the Man but paused. “The girl - Nika - she’s still asleep in the other room. Just so you know.”

“Thank you.”

That was the next thing, bring Nika to see that Lena was alright and _alive._ Poor thing still blamed herself no matter what he and Sebastian told her. “Shit.” He had to send word to Sebastian. He wasn’t ready to share her though, not yet.

“Varric.” Corff handed him a mug and plate. He got one sniff of it. “She rather liked it the last time.” He shrugged and sat back at the bar, cleaning the mugs that had been collected. He carried the mug and plate to his room and set it down at the table. It was hot chocolate milk with a spiced swirl and on the plate was fresh bread with apple slices and jam. A very rich breakfast for such a young girl but he'd been spoiling her. They all had.

Venturing to the side room, he walked in quietly. “Nika.” He called to the cot where the sleeping girl was curled up under at least four blankets, her cheeks pink and rosy from the warmth. She peeked open one eye and mumbled an apology. “What have I said, you don’t need to apologize.”

She was used to waking early and taking care of the other kids. Not entirely unheard of but when he learned she was only five, well he took it on himself to give her a reprieve every now and then. The twin Sisters in the orphanage owed him that much.

“I’ve got your favorite drink, in my room.” She practically sprung up out of the bed, still rubbing her eyes. He chuckled as she tripped over the blanket to get to the table. “Careful now.” He walked with her to his room.

“Thank you, M-messere Varric.” She muttered and sipped at the mug that was comically too large for her hands but she managed.

Varric left her to it and slipped back to his bedchambers - intending on waking Lena so she could see Nika. He just knew it’d make the girl’s day.

But when he stepped in, the bed was empty.

His heart clenched tight with panic. _Had I imagined her back?_ He seriously considered until he saw her pants still on the table along with her boots. He picked them up and turned just as the privacy curtain was drawn back and Lena stepped out, tired dark eyes startling at his appearance.

“You know, this is starting to become a trend.” She leant against the wall with her hips jutted out. She was barely covered by the tunic. A tunic that _wasn’t_ his. He had to remember to get her clothes. The men’s tunic wasn’t very flattering on her. He much preferred when she wore _his_ tunics. The plunging neckline letting him feast on the expanse of her bosom. Only in private of course.

Her rosy pink lips stretched, as she gave a huff of laugh. “Do you happen to have a fetish for watching me relieve myself?”

“What?” Varric blinked, bewildered.

“I mean, no judgement from me but all you gotta do is ask, instead of all this skulking about.” Lena sauntered to him.

It took one second too long for him to register what she said, his gaze and mental faculties focused on her hips and the way the tunic pressed tight against her bosom, her unsupported and unrestrained bosom. They jiggled, he could see it and he breathed low, growling as she snatched the trousers from his grasp.

“I don’t have a fetish for that,” Varric smiled, “Though some of your other finer qualities - I could say I’ve a peculiar proclivity toward.” He watched as she pulled the pants on.

“Much as I would _love_ to continue this…” Her cheeks flushed as she gestured between them. “I need a bath. A _proper_ bath. I feel disgusting and stink.” She sighed.

“I’ll have Norah-”

“No no. Don’t. I was thinking of going to the Powder Room.” She explained. “But I need my clothes and soap.”

“Uh.” Varric looked down guiltily.

“What?”

“I… may have.”

“Do not tell me you.”

“I did.”

“Varric!” Lena groaned. “Some of those clothes; it would be impossible to replicate them!”

“If you’re talking about your unusual smalls and expensive cloths.”

“Yes!”

“I still have those.”

“Oh thank the cosmos!” She sighed. “You’re welcome to join me at the Powder Room.” She sent a sly leering look at him that he returned with equal if not more heat. Her cheeks reddened and her teeth peeked out to chew at her bottom lip. She turned away to head out of the bedroom

“Wait. Lena.”

“Yeah?”

He meant to tell her Nika was out there, but she opened the door and froze.

“‘Ena?!” Nika’s voice was muffled around the bread and apples she was chewing but her mouth dropped open as she saw Lena. Her eyes filling with tears as she jumped out of her seat and tackled Lena with a hug.

Varric watched curious and hopeful to see how Lena would react. Her shoulders were stiff, eyes guarded as she stumbled back against the bed frame with the child clinging to her and crying whilst babbling about how she was sorry.

Varric moved around to get a better look, but she slowly upturned up to stare at him. Panic, fear, disgust. His hopes shattered. He had hoped - well it was faint and too soon for such thoughts but he had hoped Lena liked kids.

But then her gaze softened as she sighed and her arms lifted Nika up and onto her hips. Warmth, and a smile spread wide as she babbled with Nika, reassuring her she was fine and it wasn’t her fault.

Perhaps he had judged too soon because Lena was _good_ with the kid.

His smile was genuine, toothy, and - if you asked Lena - goofy.  It was a good day for him. He could finally breath easier.


	26. Toothy Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Varric head to the Powder Room after breakfast, things turn a little intense.

“Our group bathing chambers are freshly cleaned and polished. They are in the process of being refilled, Messeres,” Came the voice of a gentleman that Lena had never seen at the doors to the Powder Room, usually it was an elderly woman who scowled at everyone who came in.  This was due in part to the times Lena would come to bath. It was usually after most of Kirkwall had their baths and she only had the pleasure of bathing in tepid water that was mildly dirty and refilled after each use.  But today, _today_ she was coming at the beginning of the business day and so faltered upon seeing the man.

She hesitated at the door and stared at the man who was well dressed in powder blue satin waistcoat with embroidered flowers and a garishly flamingo pink scarf tucked into his collar.  He was clipping silver cufflinks on and dusting off specks of dust off his beige trousers. He wore mid calf-high stockings and buckled heels. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back into a low ponytail and tied with a scarf in the same garishly flamingo pink color. He wore half a mask and the side of his face that was done up in makeup was overdone, giving him a pasty powdered base and sky blue eye shadow and pink lips.

As the man was busily primping himself, Lena took a look through the entrance of the Powder Room.  She was used to everything being closed off and dark but here in the morning light of day it was bright and welcoming. The cabinets on the walls were open, and the shuttered shelves were showcasing their goods. Her mouth dropped open upon seeing the variety of said goods. There were fresh and lovely smelling linens on covered tables, the cabinets had a showcase of jars and bars of assorted soap and perfumes. There were baskets of bathing salts and minerals and even fresh herbs. There was one table where a bottle of wine and fancy frilly cakes sat as well.  There were hair brushes and even what looked like several ornately crafted white wooden toothbrushes with brown or blonde bristles. Next to those were jars of some sort of minty powder and small bottles of minty liquids.

Selena stared, and then glared, glowering as she realized exactly _what_ it was. Her tongue ran across the front of her teeth, feeling the build up of grime and plaque - reminding herself of the unclean feeling she’s had for seven months now. And she’d been _kissing_ Varric with this mouth. Varric’s mouth had never been bad but had always, especially in the morning tasted like wine. She looked around the room again. This had always been here and she hadn’t even known because she always visited at night. She scrunched her nose and pouted, disappointed in herself.

Varric had to greet the man because she was fuming and felt dirtier seeing all these soaps.

“Monsieur Destan, thank you.” He stepped around Lena who was fixated on the toothbrushes. He nudged her lightly, holding the bag of his clothes to change into, the bottles of soaps he had bought Lena while ago, and the new package of clothes he’d bought Lena. There were smalls and a rather loose breast band for her as well as a flowing green and white dress she begrudgingly chose from the merchant because it would likely be the only thing that would fit her curvaceous stature.

“I can’t _believe_ you got rid of my clothes.” Lena grumbled at him as she snapped out of whatever stupor she’d been in.

“I’ll buy you all the dresses you want.” Varric quipped back, amused when she glared at him - affronted at the thought.  

Back at the Hanged Man, she had rifled through her bag trying to find things to wear and had come up only with her - what she called - brassieres and panties, and a few thick blue cotton trousers that were too long for her to wear. Her resulting anger was both adorable and terrifying because the spider - _her spider_ \- promptly returned to her shoulder. He had to keep his distance from that thing.

It’s not that he did it on purpose. Varric had thought her dead and she had left all her belongings.  He had no use for any of it. Plus there was the odd assortment of fruits and metal strings and nails. He wasn’t entirely sure what that was for but then he had Bianca take a look.

Bianca had been most disappointed with Lena’s death, and a bit saddened. Something about unable to properly move forward with the “toilets” without Lena’s contributions.

Bianca took a look at the strange wires and the runes and she’d been most intrigued, muttering and tinkering with it inquisitively trying to work out what Lena was doing and _what_ the strange glass faced stone tablets were. Varric didn’t know, he knew they had existed in her small collection of personal effects but he had never seen her use it much less explain what it was.

On Lena’s return, he knew he’d have to pay recompense for her smaller than usual wardrobe once she found out. Of which, Varric was _more_ than happy to replace it  

“I don’t _want_ dresses. I want trousers and tunics.” She gripped.  “Ugh, do you know how long it took me to get all those clothes?! Do you know how long it took me to _afford_ those clothes!” She anguished in an angry whisper.

“From what I saw and heard, you can more than afford it. But I really will replace your garments, Lena. I feel it is only right.” Varric stepped right next to her. “Even if I have to hire a seamstress to replace every tunic, trouser, and small.”

“Oh… you’re a right sneaky bastard you know.” She hissed.

“I know.”

“Because you know - of course you do - how hard it is to find garments that _fit_ women of my…” She gestured to her ample bust and wide hips and thighs. Varric feasted on her figure, the swell of her bosom sloped inward at her waist that dramaticly jutted out for her hips and plump large rump to her thick thighs. She was well padded and soft, he wanted to grip her closer and bury himself in her. “I’m so fat and squishy.” She grumbled.

“Yes.” Varric agreed appreciatively. She turned sharply at him but given his darkened gaze, whatever protest she’d been about to give fell away.

“Incorrigible.” She muttered at him, but what anger that would have laced the word was replaced by a meek bashfulness. Her own gaze lustful and curious with a dash of hopeful anticipation as she kept flicking her eyes toward the Monsieur - an impatient hum about her. When she noticed Varric’s smug grin, her cheeks darkened and she snatched up a brush, comb, bottle of each item on display to distract herself.

Varric stayed her hand. “We can buy them elsewhere.”

“I _need_ them for this bath.” She muttered and ventured to the Monsieur who finally looked up and was stock still as she approached, his head tilted in thought as he considered them. “I would like to purchase these, and your best bath salts for a private bath.” She managed to say.

The man’s amber eyes widened with recognition.

“Oh! Madame River! Did Harlan send you?” He sputtered, shifting in place.

“What?” Lena muttered confused and really looked at the man and then she remembered, the name Varric had used with him. She’d seen him whilst negotiating with Harlan the other night. One of the men in charge of Harlan’s other branches. She was going to have to get back to Harlan to go over the books and get real acquainted with everyone. “No. No, he didn’t.” She added with an even expression. “Just here for a bath.”

“I see.”  The man shifted. “I shall have two private baths drawn then.”

“Yes - wait no just one bath.” She added. Varric choked audibly behind her and then gave a nervous chuckle as the Monsieur gave a startled scandalized gasp.

“You will bathe together?” The Monsieur asked, brows raised.

“She jests.” Varric added with a flurry of hand waving.

“No. I’m serious. One bath. Do you have bathtubs big enough for such?”

“Ah, yes of course but typically our-”

“Then I want one of those.” Lena added with a serious tone and stared.

“Of-of course. I’ll have one bath drawn.” Monsieur Destan gave a curt bow and drew away to give directions to some of the attendants.

“Andraste’s ass, Lena.  I thought you were joking.” Varric hissed at her.

“I did say you were welcome to join me.” Lena turned to him.

“I thought you meant, in general. You go to the women’s side and I to the men’s.” He rasped tightly.

“So...I can give you an almost blowjob and you bring me on the cusp of orgasm with your fingers, tongue, and mouth but we can’t bath together?” She raised a brow, speaking plainly and loudly. Two scandalized gasps, and both dwarva saw Monsieur hurriedly whispering to an attendant who rushed out. Lena snorted, amused.

“Lena, darling. You can’t say these things out loud. _People will talk._ ” He stressed.

“As if they aren’t already calling me _your lady._ ” She hissed back. Varric cringed. “Oh you thought I forgot about that.”

“It was meant as a jest.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well you should consider it something to be happy about.” Varric gave a nervous cough as she sent a withering look his way. “No one will mess with you if you mention my name. They’ll know you’re one of mine.” He attempted to reassure her but that only made her growl.

“One of _yours._ ” She seethed and snapped. “You don’t _own_ me, Varric.”

“Darling.”

“Don’t you _darling_ me.” She snapped and picked up some soaps to smell but set them down when their powerful scents had her nose twitching. She walked to the closet and pulled one of the off-white silk robes down. She set it over her arm.

“All I was trying to do is-”

“I know what you were _trying_ to do, Varric. But I don’t need you to do that.” She sighed and walked toward the wine and frilly cakes. Even though she’d had a large breakfast, a la Norah - fried egg, mashed potatoes, and bacon - she could eat still. Or rather nibble, as she needed to keep her mouth busy. She’d much rather keep it busy kissing Varric but she felt like her teeth and tongue needed proper and thorough cleaning before she touched him with her unclean mouth. She had been cleaning it as best she could, wiping at her teeth with a cloth and swishing wine but she hadn’t even considered they might have toothbrushes.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Varric sighed, rubbing his temples.

“I will ask for help when I need it.” She lifted her nose and turned from him, giving him the silent treatment until the Monsieur alerted them to their bath being ready.

The bathing chamber they were led to was separate from the large public ones Lena was used to and was on the second floor.  It was in a room lined with large windows that were shaded with sheer curtains and had reflective surfaces and mirrors at the ready. It made her start and tentatively walk in. The interior of the room was tiled and had a lover’s chaise and loveseat plush couch on the other side. On a table was a plate of more frilly cakes and wine. There were two bathtubs filled with steaming water.

“I said only one bath was needed.” She told the Monsieur who escorted them there. “And… I didn’t say anything about… everything else.”

“It is merely to congratulate you on your new position, Madame River. Surely, a woman such as yourself would like a reprieve before you begin your duties.” He presented the room with a flourish and stepped in. “The second bathtub is for relaxation.  I have taken it upon myself to have this first prepared with specially selected salts and herbs to aid in relaxation, healing, and to soften your skin so you may easily scrub away the day. And then this bath shall be for you to soak in and enjoy each other’s presence.” Monsieur Destan added with a wink. “There is wine and cakes. If you require anything else, simply pull this cord and one of my attendants will be with you.”

“How much is this going to cost me, exactly?” Lena didn’t dare look at anything else but waited patiently for him to finish.

“Nothing at all. Consider it, a gift.” He smiled brightly.

“I don’t know you. I don’t take gifts from strangers.”  Lena frowned.

“One moment, Monsieur Destan.” Varric spoke up with a grin and pulled Lena aside. “Lena, the man is trying to bribe you.”

“What? Bribe me?!” She nearly yelled but lowered her voice and smiled back at Destan who clasped and unclasped his hands.  

“You are the Coterie’s new exchequer. Harlan's Mistress of Coin.”

“I’m the... _what?_ ” Lena whispered.  “No no. I said I wanted to head up the financial aspects. You know keeping the books for the Rose."

“Lena - _darling_ \- Harlan said you decided to _lead up_ the more financial aspects of the Coterie. The Coterie has more assets and businesses than just the Rose.” Varric explained slowly. Selena stared at him, and then glanced back at Destan and then back at Varric.

“Fuck.” Varric’s laughter did not help.  “Varric. What do I do?”

“Don’t look at me.” He raised his hands and backed up. “You said you would ask for help when you needed it. Seems like you don’t actually need help right now.” Varric smirked, smug and triumphant at Lena as he leaned back. Selena went to retort but snapped her mouth shut and about faced and marched to Destan.

“I appreciate the added luxuries you have gifted me. But I really only wanted a simple bath for me and my…” Here she looked back. “ _Serving man_.” She gave a smug grin. Varric gave another choked cough but he said nothing as he covered his mouth.

“I understand, but I must insist. Madame. I can see you are worn and travel wearied.  Your hair is a right mess and you appear exhausted, as if you could not stand to walk another foot.  A woman of your new station and position must be well rested and well cared for, after all.  You cannot be seen frumpy and plain. Our bath will rejuvenate you and make you ready for the task at hand.” The man spoke low. “And if need be, it will excite and energize your _serving man_ as well with a simple pinch of our paramours perfumes into the bath.” The man slid a pinkish liquid bottle out.

Lena nearly barked in laughter at the man’s speech, but she got it under control. This whole bribery thing felt wrong but if what Varric said was true…

 

_“Harlan.” He wasn’t alone in the room as she entered. There were a dozen men and women all inconspicuously dressed. Their cloaks were black, hoods drawn, gloves worn. It screamed “don’t look at me I’m doing something illegal” and of course no one - none of them - accounted for their shoes giving them away.  If she had known this was going to be the bad-disguises-to-use-whilst-engaging-in-illegal-activities convention she would have borrowed Sebastian’s._

_“River, so glad you could join me, finally.” Harlan said. “Gentlemen, ladies. I’d like you to meet Madame Selena River, my new righ-”_

_“Ahem.” She did her best Dolores Umbridge impression and sent Harlan a cross look, as though disappointed and ready to throttle him at a moment’s notice. She never thought she’d be able to pull it off. “A word, in private please?” She interrupted before he could continue that announcement. The room became silent and Harlan looked up amused. She could have swore she saw a nervous twitch from one of the cloaked men as Harlan turned ever so slowly toward her._

_A brow raised expectantly and her arms crossed as she waited, again she tried to channel her inner Umbridge and stood straight whilst pursing her lips. It likely helped that Dopey took that moment to make his appearance by crawling out of her hair onto her shoulder. She nonchalantly pet him._

_Harlan didn’t look frightened but rather amused. Whether he got up to speak with her privately because her appearance worked or simply to humor her, she didn’t know. They didn’t go far, just far enough from the meeting table they wouldn’t hear._

_“So, do tell me what exactly happened at Sundermount.” He started, slipping a hand to her unoccupied shoulder and leaning down. There was some kind of headiness in the air between them. Lena narrowed her gaze as his eyes seemed to glow red - too red.  It almost looked like how he appeared when holding Athenril up by magic. The red glowing eyes reminded her of Hawke, specifically blood mage Hawke._ _Was he attempting to use blood magic on her? She wondered. It was like with Feynriel, something was sparking between them only Harlan didn’t seem to notice - not at first. She shrugged his hand off and hurriedly began explaining._

_“Brekker was betraying you, as was Baltier. Baltier however had the information for the next shipment and well, I didn’t know that at the time of his… untimely passing-” Harlan snorted. “-so I couldn’t exactly ask. But Athenril had me apply my unique set of skills. I tortured Brekker. I got everything out of him. He was tied down, but I must have left a knife on him or something because I went to grab some bandages-”_

_“You were torturing him and bandaging him up?”_

_“I cut off his hand. I wasn’t about to let him bleed out.” She said evenly._

_“Yo-you cut his hand off?”_

_“Yes.” She felt dead inside as Harlan laughed, pleased. Beyond pleased. It sickened her. “He got the upperhand and went to attack me with the knife. I grabbed a torch. And well I’m not exactly good at close quarter fighting. He managed to smack the torch away. Only problem was, it landed at the lyrium in the cave. And we all know how explosive lyrium is.”_

_“How did you survive then?”_

_Lena flinched, glowering. This was not something she wanted anyone privy to. The Titan’s song, the spiders, the lyrium eating. She swallowed but grimly smiled. “I did say I cut his hand off, didn’t I?”_

_Harlan cackled and slapped her shoulder. Dopey gave a hiss but he paid it no mind._

_“Where’s the rest of my pay?” She asked, wanting to get this done with._

_“Right.” He pulled a small coin purse from his jacket and dropped it in her palm. She counted it, glaring at him. “I’m going to love having you on staff.”_

_“I’m not being your right hand.”_

_Harlan sent a withering look down at her. “What makes you think you can work anywhere else? For anyone else?” Harlan spoke with a wicked grin. “How will you live? You think your man will pay for everything? You’re used, worn out.” He spoke bitter and low. “Tethras won’t touch you once he knows you’ve been working as a whore.”_

_“Implying he doesn’t already know?” Lena snapped back. Harlan hadn’t expected that. “You think I would begin flirting with anyone and neglect to tell them of my chosen occupation? Oh-ho. You are sadly mistaken.” She laughed and went to turn around._

_His grip slammed on her shoulder. “So you’ll let him buy you then? I still own your contract.”_

_“What?” She glowered._

_“You don’t remember?”_

_“What contract?” She muttered, brows drawn._

_Harlan grinned and pulled a ledger he had prepared and opened it to a page from months ago.  She recognized Viveka’s writing and right by her name for her debt was her signature and on the page was her acceptance of the debt. In very fine print however, she read the acceptance of her contract as a whore to be enacted of her own volition at any point in time._

_“You broke that contract when you forced me to sell my virginity.” She seethed._

_“Did I?” Harlan closed the book. “Word I hear, you weren’t very Chaste to begin with, unless your little princely patron taught you those skills.”_

_Lena grit her teeth._

_“I wonder how much coin the Vaels would pay-”_

_“Don’t you fucking dare.” She growled._

_“Then work for me.”_

_For a long time, Lena stared at him, weighing her options. “If I work for you...may I have a different position on your staff?”_

_“Short of fucking and killing, what other trade do you have?” Harlan snorted._

_“I’m a businesswoman, Harlan. I’m very good with numbers.” Lena asserted with a self satisfied grin. A quiet voice in her head taking gleeful delight that if Harlan said yes, she could rub it in a certain someone’s face._

_“You can?”_

_“Aye. Give me a list of numbers. I can add them up easy, do arithmetics in my head without the use of an abacus.” She wiggled her fingers. Harlan squinted but took her up. He started small and then worked up with more and more difficult and longer streams of numbers, then he had her use currency and then recalled numbers he started with. Then he opened the ledger and had her find the correct percentage. He held a charcoal stick out but she waved it off and calculated each in her head.  It took a dozen seconds each but it wasn’t exactly difficult math. Harlan however had to do the long division himself, brows furrowed as he checked her work._

_“I rounded up for some of those. Figured taking a higher percentage is better than a fraction.” She reasoned as he opened his mouth. Lena preened at his concealed amazement._

_“So. You want to lead up the books?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You are good with numbers but you’d be much better equipped as my right hand.” He spoke. Lena frowned and decided to pull out the big guns._

_“Don’t you wonder how Brekker and Baltier were conspiring against you?” Lena eyed up Harlan. “They had to have been savy with the coin trading hands, bribery, keeping some to themselves.  And all off the books. I’d be able to sniff that out for you.” She examined her nails._

_Harlan growled. “You think...heh.” He leant back. “You think you can figure that out?” He snorted. “Alright, but you’ve still got to work the beds.”_

_“You mean, keep my one patron?” She asked._

_“If I have another for you, you take them. I’ve heard some interesting things about your services.”_

_“Fine. So long as I get to say no to some them, if I find them repugnant and unhealthy.” Lena added. “Also, I want rights to my contract.”_

_“Ten sovereigns.” Harlan raised a brow, taunting._

_“Bastard.” She snapped. “But fine.” She dug out the ten sovereigns and handed them back. He hadn’t expected that but he opened the ledger, signed by her debt and ripped the page out. “Thank you.”  She grabbed it and used a nearby candle to burn it. “Never want to see this shit again.”_

_“So. We’ve a deal then? You handle the books-”_

_“And keep taking customers I approve of.” Lena added. Harlan nodded. “You’ve got a deal.”_

 

If part of doing the books was dealing with bribery? She’d take it, maybe just this once. She couldn’t have a reputation for taking bribes - at least, not yet. She went to accept the room but then groaned. She really couldn’t - shouldn’t. It would be financially unethical. This was a business after all and she was using some very expensive products and services. What if they couldn’t pay their workers?

“As much as I would like to accept it as a gift, it would be highly unethical for me to not pay you for the lovely services you are providing.” Lena stated. “I must insist that I be allowed to pay for what I am purchasing. Now, if you want to throw in say...Oh I don’t know a few soaps and bath salts as a gift, that I will accept.” Lena spoke diplomatically.

“I see.” Destan muttered but then smiled. “The price is three sovereigns and forty silvers.”

Lena refrained from choking, instead she turned to look at Varric who was laughing. She could see it in his eyes, his hand firmly over his mouth.

“That will do.” She said with as much grace as she could muster and pulled out three sovereigns and handed it to the man and counted out the forty silvers. She handed the money to him and then squinted as a question dawned on her. “Roughly how much do your attendants get paid?”

Monsieur Destan paused but considered her words. “Well it depends, Madame.”

“On?”

“On which shift they work.” He explained. “Our morning attendants are paid handsomely as they are the ones to take care of the cleaning and refilling of the tubs.  They retrieve the linens.”

“What is handsomely?”

“About four silvers a day.” Varric finally piped up. Lena looked at him incredulous. “I make it my business to know.”

“Was there any particular reason why you wished to know?”

“Just curious is all. If I’m to be checking on your books, I want to know the base pay of your workers.”

“Ah.” He paused, his powdery pasty face seemed to pale a touch. “I understand.  I shall leave you to your baths then, Madame. Should you have need of me-”

“Pull on the cord.  I know.” Lena waited until he walked out, the door closing shut behind him. “Cosmos, what did I sign myself up for.”

“I’m more surprised you had that much coin on you.” Varric crept close, his fingers sliding onto her waist. She smacked his hands and stepped away.

“I’ve got a fair amount of coin from…” She trailed off as she thought of the tunnels and shivered. “Anyway I need the things. The brushes and the paste. I need them. _Right this instant._ ” She tore through the basket of items she had taken and grabbed the toothbrush and powders, she wet the brush and sprinkled powders on it and took some water in her mouth. She sat in front of one of the mirrors, ignoring most of her reflection except for her teeth.

“You didn’t clean your teeth before leaving the Man?”

“No. I haven’t properly cleaned my teeth in months. So shhh I need this.” Her mouth open she scrubbed.

It was heavenly, bliss, orgasmic. She moaned as for the first time in forever her teeth were cleaned. “Oh my fuck.” She groaned and brushed her teeth harder and harder until her gums bled and there was blood leaking into the frothy substance around her mouth.

“Lena, you’re not supposed to-”

“ShutupIneedthis!!” She mumbled as she vigorously brushed, adding more of the powder and the minty liquid and then spat into the waste pot in the room. She did it again, and again for each row, paying special close attention to the inside of her teeth and then scrubbing at her tongue until she gagged. She coughed and spat, not realizing tears had come to her eyes.

“Lena?”

“Shhh.” She sobbed in pain, but rinsed and spat until the water was no longer pinkish as her gums stopped bleeding. Finally she smiled. Varric pulled the brush from her hand.

“Are you okay?”

“I really really needed to brush my teeth.”

“Well you did a bang up job of it.” He set the brush down angry, worried. “You were bleeding.”

“Varric, you don’t understand. I haven’t _brushed_ my teeth in months. And I’ve been _kissing you_. Does that not gross you out?!” She looked at him horrified.

“Not...really? Is it supposed to? Your breath always smelled quite nice.” He assured her and leant down to place a kiss on her lips, it was sweet and gentle at first, mostly because her gums hurt but then he deepened the kiss.  His tongue swiped against hers, and tickled her teeth. “Hmmm.” He pulled back. “No, yeah. In comparison, your breath _definitely_ had a malodorous taste and smell to it.” He teased. She smacked his arm but pulled him down for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the fluff! And next chapter - hopefully if all the characters in my head agree - smut.


	27. Scent of a Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric and Lena have a very nice bath and get very clean.

“Oooh this is awesome. My mouth feels so clean right now.” Lena grinned, pulling away from Varric again, her fingers tracing over her teeth and gushing.

“Want me to make it dirty again?” Varric whispered into the skin of her neck, pressing kisses along her collarbone.

“How would you do-” She paused as she got what he said, cheeks red and wicked grin wide. “Varric… if you think-”

“Well, I was more hoping.” Varric’s smile was evident as he lay more kisses on her skin.

“While we’re _bathing_?” She stressed, one brow cocked up.

“I seem to recall bathing involving significantly _less_ clothing.” He slipped a hand under her tunic, tickling her skin.

“More like no clothing.” Selena conceded breathily. Her hands caressed his forearms, straying over his hands and fingers.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement then.” He slid her tunic up to pull it off but she pushed it down.  He didn’t expect for Lena to pull away. “Lena?”

She stepped back away from him with a playful grin as she tilted her head in thought. She licked her lips, slow and deliberate as she gave him that look. The same one she graced him with when she saw him at the Rose. Ravenous with lascivious intent powered her hungry gaze as she sauntered further away from him. Varric trailed after her, keeping pace though he did try to catch up to her but she skirted away.

“Darling, what are you doing?” He stopped when she twirled a curl and slid a hand down her neck, languid strokes down until she was cupping her breasts. Their full shape and weight spilling between her fingers. She trailed her hands down her waist to her hips where she dipped them between her thighs a teasing.  Her lips pert at him as she did so and that gaze that invited all sorts of thoughts, feelings, and stirrings.

He wanted to indulge, given the rising organ in his trousers. But she only just returned, he hadn’t thought she’d want to engage in such activities so soon, or rather he didn’t think she should. Certainly kissing and touching but any further - well he had only been jesting and teasing meant to get a rise out of her.  Yet with how she was now teasing - he groaned when her hips swayed invitingly.

Perhaps he should let them both indulge, just this once.

“Stripping.” She answered his long forgotten question.  With her back turned, she peered at him over her shoulder as she slipped her trousers over her hips and let them descend of their own accord. Her thighs on display, the tunic came just low enough to cover what he wanted to feast on.

 _No._ He shook his head but then her hips swayed from side to side to a tune only Lena could hear. She stepped out of her pooled trousers. He could swear there was even singing. Something low, throaty, and taunting in the air. It was heady, strong and mixed with the steam of the baths and her scent that permeated the air as though his face was pressed to her neck, inhaling deep. He didn’t realize he was panting, salivating as he watched her.

There again came the humming, a melody that rumbled deep in the small of his back and tingled. He could actually hear it timed perfectly to each sway and step Lena took. She turned to look at him, leisurely sliding her hands across her half naked form. The humming grew louder, her eyes darker and wide as she gaxed longingly at him, enticing him forward.

The humming was coming from her, low in her throat as she took even steps forward and back, and spun around. Her hips swaying sensually to a tune he couldnt place. She swirled her hips, waist undulating erotically as her the tips of her fingers slid across, raising the tunic slightly as they traveled up. She slowed over her bosom again.

“Selena.” He warned stalking closer but she skittered away whilst turning to him with that teasing yet seductive smile.

“No touching.” She breathed and continued to hum. She drew back with each step he took, dancing around each other with a static heat building between them. 

And then she turned sharply to him, advancing quick. He nearly drew back away from him but he stilled as she closed the distance.

Finally, he thought. Her lips hovered close to his so delectably close he could lick her, reminiscent to their first kiss. She was so bold to wait, let him decide if he wanted to and well, he had. And just like then, he wanted to so he did - or tried to.  She kept the distance between their lips.

There was mischief in her dark pooling depths as the pads of her fingers slid up his chest and hooked around his neck. _So much for no touching._ Angling his head he meant to kiss her again, but her leg hooked around his ankle and she pushed back until he tripped, falling. Had he not known exactly where he stood, he would have panicked but he splayed onto the couch, amused by her antics. He went to draw her down onto of him but she drew back.

“Nuh uh.” She tsked and pushed his hands away.

 _Of course._ He wasn’t allowed to touch but she could touch him. He understood this game. Did not mean he had to like it. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to tell you a story, Master Tethras.” She cooed.

“With your body?” He smirked but her gaze was serious.

“Not all stories are told with words.” She purred in his ear. “But I’ll try to include words, _just for you._ ”

“How forthcoming of you.” Varric refrained from dragging her back when she pulled away. He was just about to cross his arms to keep himself in check when her lips quirked demurely as she took a breath.

"In the brothels of Antiva City, there is a story of a prostitute.”

“Oh? A prostitute? Does she look like you?” Varric teased.

“If you wish to imagine her as me, by all means.” Selena quipped back. “It is a story of a man, or if you prefer a _dwarf_ who falls in love with her.”

His throat tightened at the hooded way she leered at him when she said that. His chest constricted unpleasantly - or perhaps - _very_ pleasantly.  He was paying rapt attention now as she hummed again, her body once again swaying.  Her eyes fluttered shut as she lost herself to the music, teasing and taunting him as her hands splayed and slid across her half clothed form. Her steps slid across the tiled floor and then sharply with a stomp of her foot she turned to stare at him.

“First...” She murmured, advancing on him. “There is desire.” She whispered low over his mouth, their wet hot breath mixing. And then she kissed him, heated and fierce. Her tongue lashing against him, legs straddling him and body pressing close to him against the loveseat. She was flush against him, rubbing and grinding. He groaned, grasping her hips to drive her harder against him. She nipped at his tongue, sucking as he pushed her tunic up.  And she let him! Up it went, they pulled apart only long enough for the tunic to be removed and they were once again pressing, nipping and sucking. His own followed shortly after. Pained yet pleased gasps between them when she bit hard enough to draw blood. Varric was enamored with this story already. He’d let her tell it to him anytime she wanted.

He went to cup her breasts but she released a disappointed hum in her throat and grasped his hands to set them down on the couch with force, holding them there. And he let her, knowing he could overpower her. She did say _no touching_. He begrudgingly kept his hands aside - for now.  

Occasionally she remembered to hum the underlying song, but he didn’t care, so long as she stayed right where she was - against him.

“Then…” She moaned, pulling away from his sucking lips to speak. He groaned, complaining - wanting her back. “Passion.” She slowed her kissing to a sweet, chaste crawl. She released his hands with a squeeze to remind him not to touch before she cradled his jaw.  Her fingers crawled up his neck, his ponytail coming undone and his hair falling around him. She pulled his strands apart, scratching his scalp and then rubbing the pads of her fingers to soothe each track. He panted against her mouth, eager for more. He wanted to speed it up.  For once, the tables were turned. She was going _too_ slow for him.

“Oh Selena.” He groaned gruff against her lips, the scruff at his jaw rubbing her cheek.

“Then…” She panted as she slid off him, causing a low whine in the back of his throat as he went to draw her back. “...suspicion.” She grinned as she drew back, further from him, picking up _his_ fallen tunic.

“Selena.” He warned as she raised the tunic up to cover herself. He pleaded, silently that she wouldn’t put it on. But she did something else - something he couldn't decide was better or worse.

She trailed away, too far whilst using his tunic to drape over her naked body. Varric glowered, heatedly as he watched her use the sleeve to run down between her breasts, circling each nipple and down her belly and down down. The tether keeping him back was stretched taut which each swish down. His nostrils flared, slowing his movements, throat dry and aching to drink from her. She met his gaze which burned with -

“Jealousy,” she huskily sang, his tunic sleeve dragged across her slick core. Her eyes closed as she moaned, raising the other sleeve to cup each breast and pleasure herself. Her faint whimpering moan snapped his attention. He stormed to her, ripping his tunic away to replace each sleeve with his palms.

“Anger.” She seethed as she slapped his hands and retreated.

“Lena, no.” He pleaded. Her grin turned wicked as he chased after her. A flurry of activity, as she dodged around the bath, putting it between them.

“Betrayal.” She panted as she grabbed the robe she had brought up.

“Don’t you dare.”

She draped it over herself. He growled and ran around the tub to get her. She yelped and giggled as she ran around. She wasn’t actually trying as she slowed just before the chaise. He grabbed her arms, yanking her close. His lips seared hers with a hungry desperate kiss. He pushed her down to lay against the plush cushion, pressing his knee between her thighs. She groaned and he rasped.

“Jealousy...oh.” She gasped. His lips bit at her collarbone and sucked on the flesh. “Uh… jea-jealousy will drive you mad.” She murmured against the air, back arching as the callouses of his hands brushed against her pert nipples.

He hissed when she pulled his hair, attacking her breasts with his mouth. “Oh, Selena, you do so enough all on your own.” He groaned, teasing her nipples with his teeth.

She stuttered a gasp when his tongue swirled across her skin to her sensitive breasts. Squirming anxious legs clung to his against his knee, thrusting her hips down seeking pressure in just the right spot. It was dry and rough with his pants. She wanted flesh.  “Trousers… Varric your trousers.”

“Hmm?” He hummed, busy and preoccupied with her heavy pliant bosom.

“Ta-take AH!” She yelped as his hand had disappeared and dipped between them, sinking inside her sopping cunt, thumb pressing her hooded clit. Shivers wracked her spine and her teeth flashed over her bottom lip to quiet herself.

“No.” He growled, trailing back to her mouth. “I want you to moan.”

“Pe-people will hear.”

“I don’t care.” Varric bit the pressure point at her neck. Her nails raked down his back - sharp and drawing blood. He hissed but didn’t stop her. Pants and gasps filled the sound of silence and made it warmer, the steam of the baths filled the room making beads of sweat trail down their bodies.

He had her writhing, twitching beneath him with just his fingers sliding slow languid thrusts as his mouth and tongue worked at her breasts. He feasted and then, he traveled down, kneeling on the tile.

“You don-don’t have to.” She tried to rasp, staring at him between her legs where Varric gave a smug grin.

“Selena,” He licked his lips.

“Yes?”

“You _will_ come on my tongue.” Varric declared and dived between her legs like a starving man, thirsty for every drop that came from her sopping wet heat.

“Uhh...ah!” Lena cried out, thighs quivering as he spoke loud enough for her to hear, telling his own tale of forbidden desires in the dark.  Of things he wanted to do to her, acts he would perform with her. The words spoken in the light of day in a lit room with the possibility of anyone walking in had her nerves worked up, taut and tightening as she twitched against him. “Varric I’m…”

“Yes.” He growled, happily and licked and lapped at her with gusto. He interchanged his tongue for his fingers when he spoke, sliding deep and crooking inside her. Slow and then fast, hard and then gentle his fingers swirled. He explored inside her.  All of that and their throaty groans and pants surged her forward and beyond just a normal release.

“No. Thats. Varric I’m...I’m AH!” Her cheeks flushed bright which spread to her chest and the tips of her ears. With both legs quivering and vision white - she released a loud echoing throaty moan. She came, not just came she _squirted._

She was lost to the pleasure and sensation of her release, waves crashing around her. She was coming down when she felt him still at her core. Varric had a firm hold on her hips, legs tossed over his shoulders. The only movement she could muster was her back arching as Varric’s lips sealed around her, sucking and swallowing each gush, humming in approval.

He surfaced with his jaw dripping wet and eyes glittering dark with want at her. His grin was too wide, and too smug but she did not have the energy to smack him or quip back. She was riding the last tides of her orgasm still crashing over her.

“Grab a hold of me.” His voice crackled, hoarse  

“Hm?” She blinked up at him, as he slid her arms over his shoulders. He hefted her up, biceps and forearms straining, his shoulders and muscles rippling and even his chest tightened. She purred as she could feel every twitch of him against her. She lazily looked down as her legs were hooked around his waist. There squished between them was his thick hard cock, aching and leaking. He’d removed his trousers - finally.

Lowered into the still steaming bath, she only just remembered to grip the sides of the tub, else she would have slipped right under. Varric climbed in after her. She made to situate herself to sit back but Varric had other plans.

“Oh no you don’t.” His voice was raspy and hoarse as he grabbed Lena and dragged her across the water and sat her in his lap, facing him. Her legs on either side of him and she could feel him pulsing and throbbing painfully between her.

“Bath sex, Messere Tethras?” She huffed, pleased. She wasn’t opposed, but she may need a moment or ten to recover from that. She didn’t often squirt but when she did she usually needed a good long while to recover.

“Tempting, immensely tempting.” He chuckled darkly. “But I can still feel you quivering.” He whispered and sat her down. He groaned when his length settled against her puffy lips and surged his hips upward, the head of his cock brushing against her _too_ sensitive clit.

“Ah.” Her back arched and pressed their heated cores closer, her breasts floating in the milky bath water, herbs floating around them as they worked to soften their skin. “Varric.” She whined, her hips shuddering, aching and pulsing to get closer.

“I know.” He groaned.

“Please.” Selena turned wide brown eyes up at him.

He couldn’t resist. He reached between them and aligned himself whilst lifting her in the water with the other hand. She was quivering, her legs clenching his waist as he pressed against her sensitive opening, teasing.

“I swear Varric if you don’t-” She groaned when his head pushed through, abdomen clenching in anticipating for the rest of him.

But when he pulled her down in the water, her eyes pricked with tears. She hissed, stilling him as she cringed. “Stop.” _That’s right._ She reminded herself. Along with the transportation here making her of shorter denser stature, it had also decreased the size of certain velvety folds. A lesson she had learned with Sebastian who had been worried the first time she’d taken him when she yelped in pain. But she got used to it, knew how to move and which angles to allow herself to sheath completely around him.

She didn’t need that for Varric because length wasn’t the issue, but rather girth. She shuddered as she stretched around him, hissing in slight pain.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes...no. yes. You’re - oh fuck. You’re much _thicker_ than I-ngggh.” She tried to explain and he chuckled at her attempts.  He knew, he knew exactly and lifted her so he pulled out to allow her more room to get used to him.

“We’ll go slower.” He assured her. He panted, straining to keep himself in check as he whispered into her ear, “I like slower.” He teased.

“Oh Varric.” She crooned, clinging tight, nails digging into his shoulders.

It was painstakingly slow, taking him inch by devastating glorious inch. She had to learn to breathe as the girth of his head finally slid in and then there was the rest of his length. Her head rested on Varric’s shoulder, listening to his own labored breathing, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His strong desperate grip on her thighs slowing her descent. The comforting thud of his heart. She swirled her hips to further stretch herself. They moaned in unison. 

"Fuck " Varric swore when she did it again. A grumbling growl rumbled when she did it again, "Selena." 

It was the halfway push that Lena stilled - frozen as Varric’s member brushed against something extra sensitive inside her folds.  “Oh!” She cried, alert and shivering. They looked between them, into the foggy water, her lips stretched around his manhood obscenely. 

“Hmm.” He hummed, pondering with a wicked gleam to his eyes. He lifted her, brushing against that same spot, long slow strokes over it again and again as he raised and let her fall. 

"Uh. Oh Var-Varric. Yes ngh." She shuddered, hips tightened, head shaking. She was a mess, barely able to hold onto him as he did it purposely. "Please, more- uh faster."

“So impatient.”

“Oh, please.”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

“Nah.” He smiled cruelly as she glared and grabbed his shoulders to angle herself and swirled her hips.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” She groaned as his cock brushed against, what she was beginning to suspect was her g-spot. It was rough and everytime Varric brushed against it, it sent white flashes across her vision.

“I told you, we’re going slow.” He muttered, taking one breast in his mouth, lapping at her tan pert nipples.

“So… sooo mean.” She moaned, clenching tighter around his length on purpose. It took concentration because she was being stretched as is, but the result was him choking incredulous at her slick heat. He was quickly growling and thrusting the last few inches up, while holding her down. Gruff, animalistic and uncontrolled. It left her in pain, but she bit her bottom lip to stay quiet.

“Sorry.” He apologized, pressing kisses to her cheek and forehead.

“No, my fault.” Selena assured between pants.

“How is it-”

“I did that.” Selena panted, sending a cheeky grin at Varric who questioned her.  She repeated the motion and Varric groaned. She squeezed and rolled her hips, gritting through the pain.

“Oh Andraste have mercy, you can-”  Varric groaned, a bead of sweat on his brow.

“Neat, huh?” Selena asked.

“I need to-”

“No more slow?”

“No.” Varric grunted as he thrust up, but stopped when Lena yelped. “Shit, sorry.”

“Lets just - ungh.” They both whined but agreed. It was quiet save for their labored breaths and the sound of the water rippling with their movement. Varric pulled her close against him, stilling further movements.

“Varric?”

“Hmm.”

“Couldn’t we be _bathing_?” She shifted a tab, up and then down, grinding. He growled, warning her. “I mean, you can probably wa-wash my hair while i- uh I.” His hands pressed her hips downward, allowing him to press into her, shallow slow thrusts into her.

“You’re- ugh- completely right.” He rasped, a mischievous cock to his brow. “Lets get you wet then.”

“What? But I’m already- eeek!” He swung her backwards and dunked her in the water quickly, the angle shifting inside her making him groan and she came sputtering back up. Her hair dripping and hanging lank around her, pissed heated glare. She meant to pull off him but he pulled her back down sharp, her back arched and she shudderingly gasped.

“You!” She rasped and then he lifted her up again and brought her down again. The water slowed their movements. “Unh.” She forgot for a moment as he thrust up to meet her hips.

“Me? What about me?” Varric asked, he did it again. The scruff of his jaw rubbed against her breasts as she jutted them out.

“I…Unnh. Oh.” She lifted her hips on her own and slammed down. “Oh oh!”

“Yeah.” He rasped and continued, brushing her hair back as he devoured her moans. Together they moved, limbs aligning as he rapidly thrust as fast as the water would allow into her. Eventually there were no more words nothing but their movements and their gazes hard, lips sealed around each other, moaning and urging each other on.

It was when both of their visions swam, the heat of the water, room, paired with their body heat and the passion, sent Lena swaying as she cried against his lips, both shivering as she came, coiling tight around Varric, more nail tracks down his upper back and arms as she scratched. She grew still but Varric continued to thrust upward, he pulled out of her and stood, having her stand as well.

“Hands and knees.” He gruffed out and Lena complied, excited and sluggish. She was half in the water when he plunged into her from behind. Quickly the room filled with the obscene sounds of the slap of his balls against her hyper-sensitive clit.  The smack-smack of his hips against her rear had her shouting and moaning longer as she rode the waves of another orgasm. Varric groaned, giving a sharp harsh thrust into her, spilling inside her. It bubbled inside her, hot and scorching heat.

For a brief moment, Lena panicked. He came inside her. He _came_ inside her. Then she remembered she still had her device and she calmed down. But she giggled, smiling wide as she thought about it again. Varric Tethras - rogue, storyteller, and very much welcome tagalong - had fucked her toward two orgasms and had filled her with his cum and she loved every mother loving second of it.

“Damn.” Varric heaved as he slid back into the tub, dragging a purring with delight Lena back to his lap.

“Damn?” She questioned. His response was to kiss her, sloppily and tuck her against his chest.

“We need to do that again.” He chuckled.

“And soon.”

* * *

 

When their skin pruned, they decided to actually scrub and wash. Varric’s fingers gently washed her hair, working out the remains of Dopey’s webs and food.  They rinsed.  Varric’s skin wasn’t nearly as soft as Lena’s, but hers had always been soft. They left the dirtied bath and transferred to the cleaner one. It was somehow still hot.

“Huh. I would have thought it’d be cooler by now.” Lena splashed some of the water at Varric, but enjoyed the continued heat.

“It’s a spell. They’ve got a mage worker.” Varric explained nonchalantly.

“What? But… what about the Templars?” Lena asked.

“The Templars look the otherway, if paid enough. I thought you knew this.”

“I did but...I thought it was for influential people only. Like nobles or something.” Lena muttered, stretching her legs out as she sat opposite of Varric in the tub, far away but they were both slumped in the water, their feet sliding over each other playfully.

“It depends.”

“Seems like a highly subjective system.”

“Its out of our hands.” Varric shrugged, leaning back to enjoy the fresh herbs in this bath. It washed over his senses. He hadn’t indulged in a bath like this in quite some time and it was highly relaxing.

Selena rose out of the water with a yawn and reached over for the frilly cakes, nibbling on one.

“Hungry?”

“Someone wore me out.” She stuck a tongue out at him.

“That wore you out?” He tilted his head.

“Yes. Some of us don’t exactly have stamina right now.” She blinked sleepily. “Got to build it back up.” There was a pang of guilt as she rubbed her eyes, where the dark circles were still prominent.

“We’ll go back to the Hanged Man after this so you can sleep more.” He assured her, reaching across to take a bite from her cake.

“Hey!” She pouted. “Actually, I need to stop in at the Rose.”

“Why?” Varric scrunched his nose, confused.

“Well, if I’m the Mistress of Coin, I’m going to need to look at all the records. And I mean all of them.  I’ve a lot of work ahead of me.” She muttered and ate the rest of her cake. "I need to find a room to work from.”

“You can work out of my room.” He offered with a shrug.

“Much as… I appreciate that Varric. But I have a sneaky suspicion I won’t get much work done in there.” She spoke amused and grabbed another cake. “Gosh these are delicious.”

“Know what else is delicious?” He muttered. Lena had her mouth full so she couldn’t answer but he slid toward her. “You are.”

“Stop it!” She said around a bite of cake, cheeks flushing while she pushed him away.

“Never.” He rumbled and made to kiss her, but made off with her cake.

“HEY!” She splashed water at him as he chewed the cake. “Thief!” She rose out of the water to climb out but he dragged her back.

“Let’s have round two?”

“What?! Already?!” Lena exclaimed and felt him hard against her back.

“What can I say, you’re a sight to behold, darling.” Varric murmured against her skin.

 

* * *

 

 

She didn’t make it to the Rose that day. In fact she wouldn’t for at least a week, too tired from the last week. She was dropped into deep REM sleep every night by Varric’s _insistent_ care to make sure she was utterly and thoroughly exhausted - and satisfied! Not that she was complaining. Although she did once when she complained about chaffing. His immediate and speedy response was retrieving a jar of herbal lotion and poultice he had just for the occasion. Insatiable dwarf that he was. She didn’t want to know why he had it, but she could only imagine.

“Varric!” She groaned as he woke her up after a week of this treatment, his head between her thighs.  Her immediate response would have been to wrap them around, or even roll them over so she could sit on his jaw and let him have his way but it was starting to get old. “Get OFF”

“In a minute.” He grinned against her thigh.

“It takes you far longer than a minute for that.” She hissed. “Worse than rabbits.” She pulled him up but he knew all her buttons, knew how to slide against her and kiss her sweetly.  He knew what words to whisper to get her just there. “Varric!” She whined. “I cannot….I need to work!”

“No you don’t.”

“I at least hav-haaaaave t-to go to the Rose to fetch…” She rasped.

“Already taken care of.”

She groaned and grabbed his face, dragging him to kiss her.  She rolled them to be on top, grinding against him, letting him get worked up and promptly rolling off and grabbing the first dress - because he did buy her _all_ dresses - off the floor and slipping it on as she escaped his bed chambers.

“Lena!” He called, hurriedly pulling his trousers on.

“I swear Varric if you carry me back to bed again I’ll-” She yelled back, and was cut off when she saw someone at Varric’s door.  Specifically a person she had yet to see and needed to, especially to hand over the investment she had for their endeavor. “Bianca!”

“Lena?!” Bianca exclaimed. “You’re...alive?”

“You didn’t tell her I was alive?!” Lena turned sharply at Varric as he came in, completely well dressed and not at all disheveled.

He took a look from the annoyed expression on Bianca’s face to the slightly more annoyed but incredibly well rested one on Lena.

“Forgot about that.” He added.

“You… forgot to tell me-” Bianca sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Things have been a bit busy.” Lena laughed, nervous. “So yeah, I’m alive. Totally not dead at all. How’s it going, good looking?”

Bianca looked between the two, opened her mouth and then pause. “What is that smell?”

Lena’s cheeks flushed and Varric chuckled, smug and dark.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fanned myself no less than 27 times while writing this chapter. I mean _honestly_ Varric is such a beast in the sack. Or well in this case the bath. Lol. 
> 
> Also in case you guys didn't read the comments a while back, I revealed some meta about the story about what the lyrium did to Lena. So going to reveal a bit more here. Basically as the Titan-controlled Lena ingested a lot of lyrium, too much, a good chunk of it was stored in Lena's fat cells. This means she has fatty lyrium in her always, unless if she loses a lot weight which will not happen. What did the lyrium actually do? It was ingested and processed like many things we eat - including hormones. Lena sweat a lot due to her panic attack and fear. Being around those spiders, means she was sweating lyrium. Which mean a lot of her hormones was leeching out in the air powered by lyrium. So the spiders hormone bonded with her, thanks to the lyrium in her (that isn't the only reason but it is part of it).
> 
> So her hormones are hyperpowered allowing her to sway animals who sense and detect hormones. Humans (and by extension dwarves) are not affected by hormones in the air at that level. But what we are affected by is scents and things we ingest. Hmm, what did Varric ingest in this chapter? 
> 
> Just wanted to explain that a bit. In case you uh... didn't know.
> 
> P.S.: Also the chapter title was named by LonelyAgain!
> 
> P.P.S.: If you didn't catch it, the "story" Lena tells is a homage to Moulin Rouge movie when they do the number for El Tango de Roxanne.


	28. Breaking Discourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bianca and Lena have an enlightening discourse. And the return of Happy!

There was something off about Varric and his latest concubine. Bianca knew exactly what it was if she was smelling what she thought she was smelling.  She just had never experienced it at that volume, let alone in that concentrated dose. There was something earthy - no stone like in the air or maybe… yes, it smelled like lyrium. But what would Varric or his new trollop want with lyrium? And why would they be using it during those activities?

She squinted at Lena who was chattering away. She didn’t pay much attention with her small talk, though she did catch a few words about what had happened. Something about a lyrium explosion? Her brows rose and she looked to Varric for clarification but what she saw shocked her.

A look he normally and almost always reserved for her and her alone was being directed at this slattern, his new piece of the week. It was a look that expressed his wanting wistful nature of what could have been or what could be, if he could only think of the write words.

Varric had never been a loyal man. Even when they were together in their youth, he had his affairs. She didn’t much care because he always came back to her, pleading for forgiveness.  If it weren’t for that mouth and tongue of his, she would have left him much sooner. 

It took her father introducing her to her betrothed, Bogdan. Vasca was a smart smith, knew he could never be on par with Bianca’s creativity but he supported her when he could and was a good bouncing board for her ideas but he never had an original thought of his own. Needless to say, she desired someone a little more developed intellectually - scholarly, which was Varric. Only he hadn’t contacted her for a decade.

But then he did, something about a crossbow modification he thought she would be able to help with. At first she thought it was a ploy, but she had just solidified a patent for her seed drill and had a mind for something to help grain mills. She just needed the the right person to help her think it through, the mechanism and gears; how to frame it and how it would work. Bianca hadn’t even thought he’d ever do so since she did not follow through with their plan to elope and instead agreed to marry Bogdan - as per her father’s request.  And then came a second letter from Varric saying he was told she would be the only one to help him with this crossbow. He sent her the blueprint ideas and well, she became very curious.

The sparks between them were reignited and she fell into bed with him like a bad habit. A bad habit that worked. Their pillow talk turned to her new ideas and he offered the right words and like a writer, like a _storyteller_ , he helped her think of the spinning frame. It’d be perfect.

“I actually had some thoughts about the designs of your cistern.” She interrupted Lena, annoyed as she turned from Varric. It was unusual seeing him looking at anyone like that and there was a bitter twinge when she saw him direct it at Lena.

“Oh?” Lena perked up, her wide large eyes turned on her. “I’ve actually been meaning to come find you to discuss that, but I’ve been a little preoccupied.” Lena sent a withering glare at Varric, who snorted. “What specifically?”

“We need to go over the contract of you commissioning me and then what materials you think we might need.” Bianca went straight to business and thankfully, Lena did too. The playfulness in her eyes faded as she got to thinking.

“I've a couple ideas. Well there's the inlet valve and then the piston. It can't be too dense of a material it needs to be able to open with the-” she trailed off, her fingers itching. “I have. Hold on.”  Lena held up a hand and nearly tripped on the dress she wore. “Stupid dress.” She hiked it up and went to her bags. Bianca’s brows rose as she recalled the odd glass faced stone tablet.

“Surely this can wait until Lena has recovered a bit more from her ordeal?” Varric stepped up.

“She looks well enough.”

“I _am_ recovered.”

They both chimed, Lena with a well placed glare at Varric and Bianca with an eye roll.

“Hmm. Do you have someplace where we can work on this?” Lena asked. “It’d be much more conducive if I could work on this in a workshop and not a tavern - especially in Varric’s room.”

Bianca squinted, she did have her workshop but to bring Lena there. She cast a sideways glance at Varric who frowned. He wasn't allowed anywhere near her workshop, her father would find out and then the assassins would start up again. He sent a pleading look, asking her not to but she snorted and smirked. “I do.”

* * *

 

“Holy smokes!” Lena exclaimed as she took in the large workshop Bianca was working in on the Docks of Kirkwall toward Darktown. It was a large wooden structure with a flurry of activity. Bianca led Lena toward it and behind her was a disguised Varric.

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen or heard of it before.” Bianca quipped. Watching as Lena approached one of her smiths who was assembling a seed drill diligently. They had orders for them all across the Marches and we starting to get a steady influx of orders from farms in Nevarra. It was slowly becoming a standard across Nevarra like it had in the Marches. She even had some contacts in Antiva that were looking into buying the machinery.

“I likely have but at it’s off hours?” Lena stared amazed. “I usually only ever ventured out of the Rose in the late day.” Lena muttered,  brows stitched together as the parts were assembled. Bianca lingered by her, ready to answer the inevitable questions she would likely have.  Her back straightening, hands steeped behind her. Everyone she’s ever brought to the workshop had questions. Even the best smiths, peppered her with questions on how she got the idea for the seed drills.

Lena didn’t, in fact she turned away from the assembly and looked to Bianca expectantly.

“You don’t have any questions?”

“Nah. If I ask for something to be explained, I’m sure the technical aspects will go _right over my head._ ” Lena shrugged, conceding.  “Plus, it doesn’t look too terribly complex because your workers are really confident. They are making it all look like it’s easy to put together, like a puzzle. You know?”  

No, she didn’t, and that confused Bianca. “I see. Well, this isn’t the extent of my workshop, actually this one is just a temporary one as I have one under construction in Orlais.” She walked through the main floor, checking to make sure Lena and Varric were following. The parts for the seed drill were assembled here, but the forges were down below.  Only a few smiths she trusted worked there.

“Messere Davri, we’re encountering problems with the feed drives.” One of her smiths, Voran, approached her.  

“Give me one moment.”  Bianca directed Lena toward her office. “Wait in there.” She went to say something else but Lena had already disappeared behind the door with Varric in tow.  She worried what state she’d find the office when she returned but if the feed drives were having issues then the distribution would be off - which it might influence the depth - she had to go check on it.

Lena stepped into the office, Varric hovering close behind her whilst hooded.  He hadn’t wanted her to come alone, or perhaps he didn’t want to her to leave his side - so he had donned a disguise, though with _Bianca_ the crossbow at his back it would be pretty hard not to figure out who he is. Though for her it was obvious, maybe not so much for the residents of Kirkwall.

“You know I can handle myself.” She quipped at him.

“I’m aware.” His hand slid to her waist, but she stepped away, examining the bookshelves and drawings on the multitude of tables and desks in Bianca’s office. It was all very rustic but there was also a forge toward the back of the office. Lena had never worked at a forge in her entire life so she gravitated toward it, even if she was doing so to keep the distance between Varric and her.  All the way here, he had hovered, fingers teasing her sides and the wanton look in his gaze was entirely too tempting. But she persevered, she _needed_ to take her mind off things.

While sex was good, it would only work for so long. The nightmares persisted, or well the _bad shapings_ persisted. It was mind boggling that dwarva dreamed, but it made sense. Most Thedosians had a connection to the fade, and everything associated with dreaming happened in the fade. Dwarva did not have a connection to the fade and so dreaming for them occurred in their heads alone.  Perhaps maybe they had called it the same thing, but Ancient Dwarven wasn’t exactly kicking as a language.

“Sorry about that.”  Bianca sighed as she shed her jacket, walking in stiff and gruff.  “This cistern, as you’ll be the patent holder, what ideas do you have about the materials.”

“Have you ever heard of rubber?”

“Rubber?” Bianca leveled her with a glare.

“You know it’s a sap from a tree-”

“I’m well aware of what it is. You want to use rubber?”

“Yes for the float ball and piston. For the float ball it’d have to be thinner, vulcanized obviously.”

Bianca’s mind stuttered and she blinked. “Vulcanized?”

“Oh… crud. You don’t know what that is?”

“No. I’m more shocked _you_ know what that is.”

“Why?”

“You said you’re a businesswoman, not an alchemist.” Bianca sent her an incredulous look. “Vulcanization has only just been published by an Antivan alchemist to cure rubber. That is a new process not many outside of certain guilds would know about.”

Lena gave Bianca a long, calculating stare as she weighed her words. “Right...well um. I know people, know things.  I do a lot of reading - er experimenting.” She tried with a hopeful smile. “My mother was a chemist - er an _alchemist_.  You learn a thing or two second hand.”

She didn’t believe her, not entirely - yet she would be remiss to not be intrigued her knowledge.

“For the layman here, what is vulcanization?” Varric asked, piping up from the perch he’d taken, his book and charcoal pen out. Both Lena and Bianca rolled their eyes. Bianca wasn’t going to bother but Lena seemed up to the challenge after a long suffering sigh.

“Vulcanization is the process in which you harden rubber, typically natural rubber which is a sap from the Para tree.  Anyway you harden it by treating it with sulphur at high temperatures, different degrees and different amounts of sulphur will produce varying stiffness of rubber.”

“The tree is only found in Par Vollen and Seheron, so naturally it’s an expensive export.” Bianca spoke. “It would be difficult to get large quantities. I’m not entirely sure it’d be worth it, cost effectiveness might hinder development especially at this early of a stage. Is there any other material you’d consider.”  

“You wouldn’t necessarily need to export the sap. Purchase a few seeds if you can.  Its not like the Qun will know why we want it.” Lena squinted up. “Hmmm.”

“And what?” Bianca was intrigued.

“You’d need to farm it in a similar environment. Presumably in a tropical location, assuming you have the land for it in the north. Likely Tevinter along the coast or-”

“Rivain!” Bianca snapped her fingers. “Varric does not your family have a plantation in Rivain?”

Varric had been mid turning a page whilst jotting notes or perhaps even transcribing the conversation, when both women looked to him expectantly. “Why are you looking at me?”

“You want your little mouse to succeed, don’t you?” Bianca spoke, arranging the parchments onto the table, plans, schematics, order forms, requisitions, and a missive or two amongst the pile.

“I am not _his_ mouse.” Lena gasped in offense. “And I don’t even resemble a mouse either!”  She squeaked. Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed at the high pitch tone her voice took and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Both Bianca and Varric looked to each other with knowing teasing twinkles in their eyes.

“You just squeaked.” Varric added with a grin.

“Have you seen your hair?” Bianca pointed out.

Lena opened her mouth to protest.

“You scurry.”

“You nibble on cheese.”

“HEY!” Lena protested.

“You’ve got dark eyes.”

“You’re quite round.” Bianca laughed openly, enjoying making fun of her.  She did give credit to Varric, he tried to keep it together before each indignant look Lena had made him snort until he was howling with laughter.

“You-you’ve been haha been hiding away.”

“I have not!” She stomped her foot, glowering, cheeks burning red. Bianca snickered and then froze upon seeing a white spider climb out of Lena’s hair.  Her mouth snapped shut. She looked to Lena to warn her but she was flabbergasted upon seeing her eyes flash lyrium blue, contrasting greatly with the natural gold flecks. Sobering, she noted Varric hadn’t noticed.

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” She tried to move them on from the teasing, if only to get this out of the way. The toiletry and plumbing ideas she had were certainly worthwhile especially with the long term possibilities and profit. She was intrigued by what else Lena had hidden away in her head and yet simultaneous unnerved by her current appearance. “How else would you use the hardened rubber then?” She wanted to pick Lena’s brain, see what other ideas she might spew out - especially if she was up in the know of recent progresses in alchemy and smithing.

“Well… “ Lena’s eyes faded back to normal, but she sent an additional glare toward Tethras. “I’ve a few ideas, especially with those seed drills out there.”

“What use would hardened rubber have with my seed drills?”

“Exactly how stable are wooden or even metal wheels? With hardened rubber you could make an air filled fitting over the outer part of the wheel, that grips the terrain and has buoyancy, so less of a chance it will break with a high resistance to abrasions and shock absorption.”

“How do you know hardened rubber will do that?”

“I’ve got a little experience with lots of _hardened_ things.” Her leer toward Varric made Bianca bristle until Varric sent a snicker her way.  Huffing, Bianca rolled her eyes. She could handle the occasional joke like this, if it means getting as much information from her, especially with the way she considered new advances in smithing.

“The tire is -”

“Sorry tire?”

“That’d be the name for the outer shell of the wheel.  It’d be filled with air, pressurized air to increase buoyancy and then add in a suspension system with linkages, shock absorbers with springs. Now that’s something, do you even know what a spring is?”

“Do I know what a spring is?” She spoke slowly, offense and anger dripping from each word.  Was she seriously asking her that? Bianca sincerely hoped not. “How do you think I’ve got that crossbow working in the first place?”

“Oh!” Lena brightened up, sending a smile her way. “Yes. Well these would need to be much larger, heavier, and thicker.” Lena continued on. Bianca expected another snicker, eyebrow raise or perhaps even a leer but Selena seemed to be much more serious now. Varric chuckled.

Both women looked to him, then at each other. Silent agreement and exasperation at him passed between them.

Bianca _liked_ her. She at least knew when to get serious. Ignoring Varric, Bianca stepped to her and pushed a parchment across to her with a quill and ink pot, she dragged a stool over as well. “It helps to write it out.”

Lena grabbed the parchment but instead she pulled a strange metallic stick that she clicked the end of and began writing effortlessly without any ink. Bianca’s mouth dropped open at the thin trails of ink as Lena hurriedly drew a basic idea with words and references. “I don’t have the exact measurements but it’d be a good starting place, in theory. But you could probably create seed drills twice the size of the ones being assembled if you’re going to do all this to get the rubber. Take it as payment for indulging me?”

“Larger?” Bianca gasped. With larger, even twice the size of her current model would revolutionize farming in ways she hadn’t even considered.

“Well I mean yeah.  You made the seed drill to make agriculture efficient, you’ve got a good start but if you really want to lower the cost of food, you’ve got to think bigger..” She pushed the parchment across to Bianca. The drawing was rough and her penmanship could certainly use improvement but the design itself was incredible.  She hadn’t even considered. “Where did you learn about this?”

“Eeehh..” Lena trailed off, shifting. “I told you, I do a lot of reading and thinking when I’m on my back.” She waggled her brows toward the end. Bianca ignored it. Bianca looked at the drawing again and frowned.

“These, what are they?” She pointed to the symbols just before the name of each part.

“That.  oh those are just my guesstimates of the rough measurements. I’m by no means an expert.  But it’s where you can start with the mechanics of it all. I’m probably horribly wrong in that respect.”

“These are numbers?” Bianca blinked at her and squinted at the parchment again. “They  do not resemble any sort of numbers I’ve seen. What is this supposed to be?”

“Wait serious?” Lena gaped, paling. “Um well that’s supposed to be two feet.”

“Two? That symbol is meant to represent a two? Where did you learn this?”

“Ehhhh.” Lena now looked away, her hand scratching the back of her head. “I… oh boy. Sorry it’s my own personal numerals system.” She pulled the parchment back and quickly jotted down ten similar swirling symbols but each distinct and different. She went over what each number represented and how she used them to represent long strings of numbers with commas, and decimals to represent fractions and thousands. Varric had ventured forward to gander as well.

They spent much of the day going over numbers that Bianca had nearly all forgotten about the cistern, leaving only once to check again on production, at which point Varric had also slipped out if only because Lena told him to as she was in capable hands. Voran brought Bianca and Lena lunch and then dinner again later.

“Goodness it’s gotten late.” Selena said as she stifled a yawn.

“It has. Ah, we should end for the day, I suppose.” Bianca tapped her quill, eyeing the quill Lena had been using. “Although I am curious about your quill.”

“This? Oh this is a...oh shit. Yeah this is a ballpoint pen. It’s a prototype my...my father made.”

“Your father was a smith?”

“Er, No we were uh, we were in the artisan caste but once exiled my mother went into alchemy and my father became a smith.”

“They didn’t want to stay in the artisan caste?”

“Not really. They weren’t exactly Kalnas. They firmly believed in making your own way.” Lena explained.

“I see.” Bianca frowned. “What exactly does the pen do?”

The candles were low by the time they finished discussing yet another schematic, where in Lena drew a schematic for the pen she used.  

“And the ink? How does it dry so fast?”

“That, I don’t know. It’s a fast drying ink and I wouldn’t have any know-how to recreate it.” Lena muttered. “I may know some things about alchemy but not all. My parents may have went against their caste but I stuck to it. I’m an artisan myself, numbers, banking, keeping the books, that’s what I do. Occasionally I branch out into other facets, like plumbing!”

“I can see that.” Bianca mused as she collected parchment after parchment into a book and set them away whilst Lena rolled up schematics and tied them off with strips of leather and twine she kept for just the occasion. “Perhaps tomorrow we can further discuss the cistern, we never quite finished that discussion.”

“Tomorrow?” Selena’s eyes went wide. “I’m allowed back?”

“Of course, we’re business partners now.”

“I would like that.” Lena’s cheeks reddened as she shuffled out the door. “I- thanks.”

Bianca’s breath halted at the warm friendly and entirely _innocent_ hopeful look Lena had. With a nervous cough, she looked away ignoring the unusual pull inside her. “You’re welcome.” She whispered as Lena walked out of the office, Bianca could not help but track the movements of her hips and she felt shame burn at her own cheeks. This was a _woman_. How? She shook her head and followed after her.

Outside, Lena was staring out across the docks toward the Gallows unaware as a dark hooded figure came out of the shadows. Bianca was just bidding Voran and her other workers goodnight when she saw them. Her hand at her waist to pull a dagger out, to throw when the hood was pulled back and a familiar blonde ponytail had her halt.

“I was beginning to suspect, Bianca had stolen you away.” Varric spoke in low tones. Bianca glared at him, a hint of jealousy rearing.

“Pretty sure she’s stolen me for tomorrow.” Selena grinned, proud. “I’m invited back!”

“Did she now?” Varric’s gaze pinned Bianca but she wasn’t swayed nor backed down.

“We have much work to do on her commissions.” Bianca explained.

“Hmm.” Varric squinted at her.

“I shall take my leave then. Have a good evening. Selena. Varric.”

* * *

 

Lena watched Bianca walk off, her jacket swishing behind her as she climbed the stairs that would lead her up toward Hightown.

“I’m assuming you had fun.”

“Loads.” She yawned again, feeling fatigued and hungry. “What did you get up to?”

“Just did my rounds. Been neglecting my own duties.” Varric mumbled as he held his arm out to Lena. “To the Hanged Man, little mouse.” He cocked a vexing grin at her. Harrumphing she stomped off ahead of him. “Aw come on, darling.”

“Arsehole.” She spat behind her but made her way to the Hanged Man quickly. “Honestly, I don’t even resemble a mouse. Mice are disgusting foul creatures. They are repugnant and filthy.”

“You say this as though a spider isn’t nesting in your hair.”

“Dopey is _adorable._ And you haven’t even met Happy, so watch yourself.” Lena seethed as Varric caught up.

“Who is happy?” Varric didn’t want to know but he was curious, especially as he continued his work on his latest novel.

“Happy is my much larger spider. Bigger than Dopey.” She added. “Ya know what, I think it’s time you met him.” Selena’s lips quirked up as she by passed the Hanged Man and headed toward the Alienage.

“Lena.” He warned, sending surreptitious looks at loitering figures. “Lena we should head back to the Hanged Man.”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re scared of spiders!  Besides, Happy is harmless. It’s why he’s at the alienage, he’s made a few friends there so he mostly hangs out there. Merry is one of them.“  She turned into the Alienage and eyed the tree. In the few times she was able to escape Varric’s exploring touches and skilled tongue, she went searching for Happy and found he liked it in the Alienage. Apparently the elves liked him too because people, specifically humans who wanted to harm them were afraid of him.

“Selena.” Varric hissed below his breath but Lena didn’t hear him. He swore and got into position.

“Happy?” She tapped the beat she had used the first time she’d met the spider. The Alienage was surprisingly empty even if it was after dark, there were always at least some kind of central bonfire they had. “I wonder why it’s so quiet. Varric?” She turned to find Varric not behind her like she’d have guessed but instead she saw four tall figures.  Tall for her because they were human and were leering down at her. “Uh...hello?”

“Madame Lena, is it?” One of them drawled as they stepped forward.

“Yes?” She answered, body stiff and entirely aware she was outnumbered especially as they nearly surrounded her.

“Viveka’s got a message for you.”

“Viveka?” Lena squinted, anger boiling at the name. This better not be a revenge for her becoming her superior.  “Well then, out with it. What has she got to say?”

One of the humans slipped a dagger out and the other cracked his knuckles, meant to intimidate.

Fear spiked up her spine as she edged backward but she had strayed too close to the tree. “How much is she paying you?”

“S’not about the coin.”

“It’s about principal.”

“This will hurt just a tad.”

Lena was stock still as they stepped to her. Her breath heaving and she made to grab her own daggers but she’d left them at the Hanged Man. She’d left them because she’d been trying to escape Varric, Varric who wasn’t even there to protect her. She cursed her foolishness. She shouldn’t have relied on him.

She didn’t flinch even when the dagger flashed high above her, but she did close her eyes. She waited for the impact, only it didn’t come. But something scurried in her hair, and she worried Dopey had taken the brunt of it but then there was a sharp scream.

“IT SPIT AT ME!” He screamed and then it turned into a stomach curdling scream as he was wracked in pain. There was a faint sizzling followed by the smell of burning flesh. Lena peeked only to see three of the humans backing up, the other writhing on the ground. She shouldn’t have looked but she nearly lost the tea she’d had when she saw the man’s face corrode and melt off, revealing bone and muscles. His body twitched.

“Maker, what is that?” Another pointed up above her. 

A dark shadow above her and the sound of a high pitched shriek, followed by a whizzing bolt in the air.  Lena watched as Happy, a much larger Happy tackled one of the humans that had been about to injure or possibly maim her. His fangs sinking into the human to paralyze him.

“Happy!” She called but that distracted the large spider and was nearly slashed by a dagger. Another hissing sounded as something was spat out of her hair and at the human and another bolt whizzed at him as well and the human went down. Lena gasped and then ran to the large spider.

“Lena!” Varric’s voice called from atop a pile of boxes, warning her. “Get away I’ve got-”  Lena ignored him, in favor of stooping down to check on Happy. Her fingers scratched at his sides as he shook and chittered, pedipalps raising up and down excitedly.

“Happy! Are you okay? Oh god, did that bad man get you?” She worried over the spider that was now nearly five feet in width and length. He was getting _big_. She blamed the increase in food. She could see his exo skeleton was fresh, likely he’d molted recently but he was still recognizable. Happy purred and rubbed against her, seeking her fingers.

“Selena?!” Varric gawked at her as she knelt in front of a giant carnivorous spider, petting it as though it were a mabari.

“Varric! Where did you go! They nearly got Happy!” She glared at him. “It’s okay, you’re safe.” She stuck her hand in her hair. “Dopey and you did a fantastic job of protecting me.” She cooed and rubbed the spider perched in her hair. She was a little worried. She hadn’t known Dopey was an acid spitting spider. That certainly changed things.

“And what about me?”

“You left my side! They stuck by me.” Lena huffed.

“Oh come on! That’s a giant spider!”

“A giant spider who cares enough to swoop in to help me.”

“I shot-” Varric breathed sharply and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m competing with a monstrous spider _._ ”

“He’s not a monster!” She gasped whilst petting Dopey, who cooed and purred as well. “He’s adorable! And my hero!”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rubber has so many uses that we don't even think about. Rubber or latex from the Para Tree has MANY uses. More on rubber in future chapters. 
> 
> Also don't hate on Bianca. I headcanon that Bianca is sapiosexual -slow grin-


	29. Commerce and Chantric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selena begins her duties as the Madame of Coin and she meets someone she had hoped to never meet.

Selena cringed each time a book was added to the pile on the table she sat at. Every large book before her was filled with pages upon pages of purchases, ledgers, and an insurmountable amount of contracts. She had to go through every single page to investigate discrepancies and where Baltier and Brekker - and secretly Athenril - had been able to hide their betrayal. If everyone on Harlan’s payroll documented everything - and they had to for posterity and for tax time when the Seneschal came around, then it had to be somewhere within these tomes. There was only so much wiggle room they could hide secret transactions especially with the knowledge of exactly how much certain products were worth. And not necessarily lyrium. The Coterie had their fingers in a lot more than just lyrium and brothels.

Madam Luisine set her own books of the last six months on the table and next to her was Viveka holding out a plate what looked like cookies. Lena squinted, not trusting the cookies one bit from Viveka, especially considering the woman had hired men to try and kill her.  Viveka was looking more and more pinched in the face.  

After the attempt on her life, and Varric’s acceptance of both Happy and Dopey, they took care of the bodies. And by take care of, she meant Varric’s people came and handled it.  It was a waste of perfectly good fat if you asked her, but Happy made off with one of the corpses into a dark corner down toward Darktown, spinning a web around it.

She’d had nightmares that night again, refreshed with new horrors and worries. Needless to say, she was a little glad Varric knew how to distract her even if she was getting physically worn out. Which was why she found herself here in the Rose, much to the storyteller’s chagrin. Nothing quite like distracting yourself with numbers.

“This is just to start you off with the highest earners. Then there’s the smaller ones in Lowtown and Darktown.” Harlan grabbed one of the cookies from the plate, whilst perched on the table. Lena scrutinizing his laidback air and seemingly trusting atmosphere for her to work on the books for his highest earners. That certainly wasn’t fishy at all.

She had tried to make off with just a few of the books to the Hanged Man but then Harlan had ushered her to the large room where he had his main branches gathered and the business runners. It was better for them to meet in the Rose due to the close proximity of a staircase to Darktown. Some of the main branches worked out of Darktown or rather, in close proximity with it.

“Alright.” Lena sighed while counting each book. She was trying to figure out how long this might take to organize and go over. She could only imagine how long it took the last person who held this position to keep track of all the books, if there even was someone.  “What happened to the person who did this last? Or is this a new position?” Selena directed her gaze to Harlan who gave a slow grin and pulled a necklace up where a chain of teeth hung.

“They found another position as they aren’t in the business of keeping my books anymore.” Several of those teeth were still bloody, with chunks of rotting gum flesh on it.

“Right.” Lena gulped.

“If you need anything, have Viveka fetch it for you.” Harlan with a knowing grin, looked between the two. Viveka sneered.

“With all due respect, Harlan. I don’t need her help.” Lena muttered, bristling as she glared at Luisine’s niece. Dopey was on her shoulder, her hair having finally been tamed into a bun, but she had felt Dopey crawling about, and last she felt, it was like a web covered the bun.  She had a silk webbing hat and could feel the trapped flies as Dopey eventually ventured back to wrap them.

“Fair enough. I’ll be by in a few hours.” He muttered. “Oh, the Seneschal will be by next week. Best to prepare the tax collection as well.” he clapped her other shoulder whilst laughing and leaving.

Sighing, her fingers steepled as she was left alone with Luisine and Viveka, the other business runners having left their stacks behind.

“It is good to have you back, Lena.” Luisine smiled. “Do let Viveka know if you need anything.”

 _Not likely._ But she smiled and watched them leave her alone there.

Suffice to say she was overwhelmed because the first thing she realized was that the numerals were all Roman, or in this case _Tevinter_. It was at the very least comparable but she wanted to make sure she had it right, so she found Denier and Serendipity to make sure the L like symbol meant 50, C meant 100, D meant 500, and M meant 1000.  Once she had that, she went through the long arduous process of converting everything into the new sets of books she dipped out to buy.

And then came the worst that hearkened her to her time back on Earth. The hell and pain that was _spreadsheets_. She didn’t even have the convenience of a digital spreadsheet. It was all done manually and she had to keep a legend of the percentages for each column.

By lunch Harlan came and found her sitting here, Dopey was missing from atop her head but the windows were wide open on the fourth floor of the Rose in the sitting room, light filtering in in droves. She had transcribed most of the numbers in the books of the Powder Room, the Blooming Rose, and a few other businesses.  

“What is this?” Harlan complained as he went over each line, squinting at the numbers.

“It’s my own personal numbering system because Tevinter numerals _suck ass._ ” She snapped as her fingers cramped. She was endeavoring to write as neatly as she could but she really needed a scribe for this.

She’d written how to read the new numbers with Bianca and Varric once before so she slid the paper to Harlan, not bothering to explain it.  Instead she concentrated on transcription and whilst doing so working out where the kinks were. There were a few places she’d have to point out to Harlan because the numbers did not make any sense at all. She knew roughly how much the Rose’s workers made, and she now had an idea how much the Powder Room’s workers made.  She’d have to find out the same for all the others.

It was looking like once she transcribed the numbers she was going to need to investigate personally and ask questions.

Which is exactly where she found herself the next day if only because she needed a break from the dark room of the Rose she had inhabited.

First up was a business called the Florian Flavouring, next was Malgoth’s Herbs and of course the Apothecary of Hightown. Kirkwall was really quite large. Hightown was broken by streets and alcoves with small districts. There was the market district, the Merchant’s District - which were two very different districts as some more racist humans would call it the Dwarf’s district due to the sheer quantity of dwarves that congregated there, but that wasn’t the only place dwarva inhabited. In fact many dwarva were considered noble and lived in estates alongside the nobility, but they weren’t granted the same clemency as human nobles. There was a park that was maintained by the Viscount’s gardeners. There were other districts but ones she didn’t need to go to now.

Instead she eyed Florian’s Flavouring. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect but when she walked in, seeing humans of very clearly defined Asian heritage was not one of them. Only that’s what it would be called on Earth, she wasn’t sure what it would be called here in Thedas so she openly stared. The man behind the counter was stirring a large pot and beside him a woman of similar ethnicity pounding away at a mortar and pestle; both looked to her curious. Both wore simple brown threadbare garments and sandals for shoes. The woman however had an assortment of earrings and Lena could swear she saw an intricate black mark along her neck, before the woman shifted her long black hair to hide it.

“Hello.” The man pulled away, the woman taking over stirring the pot. “What may I get you, Madame River?”

“Uh...yes. I-” She fumbled unused to people knowing who she was. “I am here to meet with Florian?” The man nodded his head, confirming his identity. “On behalf of-”

“Yes. I know. What may I get you? I do not have the cut ready, will you accept-”  The man stepped further toward her, bowing lowly to get on her eye level. She glared at his patronizing stature, bristling. He gasped and took a step back.

“Cut?” Lena questioned.

“I- I apologize. It had not been a good new year. If I could have just another week, I can get your cut of this weeks-”

“Sorry. I think you misunderstand. I’m not here to collect anything. I just want to go over your books.” She pulled out the small book that had had less than a hundred purchases in the last three months but also all of them were large purchases and all at rounded numbers in increments of hundred such as one week he made three hundred silver here and then the next two hundred. It certainly rose a brow. No way was any trade that precise in their proceeds.

“The books?” He gulped and sent a look to the woman who disappeared behind the curtain toward what Lena guessed was the back. “Ah yes, yes. I will. One moment. I will sit with you. Co-come, to the back.” He gestured to behind the curtain.

Lena squinted but made motion for him to go first, senses and paranoia on high after the attack the other night. The room they entered in had a group of four children huddled around one table, one of which was at least a teenager and was leading the younger ones in reading from a thick book. A book, Lena noted, that was _not_ the Chant of Light but was something else entirely.

The woman from the front was setting a table out with a cup of what smelled like tea. Not just any tea, jasmine tea, and chamomile tea, and there were dried fruits as well in a small bowl besides the cups.

“Exactly what is your business?” She asked as the woman ducked her head and waved over her throat whilst shaking her head.

“My wife, she does not speak common.” The man, who Lena suspected was Florian explained but he pulled the chair out for Lena to sit, wringing his hands. “I am a spicer, Madame. Surely you knew that? We provide spices for the nobility, hard to find spices from the north.”

“From the north?” Lena perked up. “Spices from Par Vollen?”

“Not quite.” Florian explained. “Please, have some tea. It is our newest sampling.” He served the tea for himself but Lena covered the second cup.

“I’m not overly fond of tea.” She dismissed his offer. “I’m not here to sample your teas, I’m here for the books.”

“Ye-yes of course.” He muttered and sent a look to the four children. The eldest of which walked over. “This is my son, Taolin.”

He was young, Lena would have to guess no older than thirteen and he too was also dressed in brown threadbare but he was barefoot. Lena also noted his hands were calloused. It was a shock to her as she’s never seen kids with callouses before, not of that magnitude. Having avoided developing callouses for much of her life, she was now paying the price with each day of hard labour.

“I handle the books.” The boy muttered, steely eyed as he took his father’s place at the table. Florian hovered behind him.

“Alright, then can you explain why the entries are so….rounded?”

“Rounded?” He furrowed his brows as she opened the book and pointed to each entry. The boy’s eyes following her as the hundreds were marked. He chewed his lip, worried as he glanced up at her.

“Rounded. Whole sovereign amounts. Surely you can’t tell me your Father makes exactly two hundred silvers every week? That’s just not how supply and demand works - that’s not how _commerce_ of any kind works.” Selena looked from the book to the boy.

The father, having spent much of his time examining the book and then looking at his son said something low, but not too low Lena didn’t hear it. The problem was, it didn’t sound like any language she’d ever heard from Thedas. If anything it sounded like Chinese. She snapped her head up to Florian, squinting at him and then Taolin as well. The older man seemed to break and said something again in that language low to his son who responded in kind.

Each word they exchanged, Lena could not decipher, but she didn’t need to. She watched their bodies. The stiff way the father’s posture loomed over the boy, his brows knitted tight, a vein bulging and his face turning red as he spoke quickly and admonishing.  The boy on the other hand was slouching, cringing every time his name was used. The father was chewing the boy out.

“Messere Florian. Please don’t take it out on your son. I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation for this.” She intervened.

That made the man and the boy stop talking in their language, pale faced and staring at her suspiciously. “You - you understood?”

“Well not everything, but enough.” She waved her hand in the air. “Now, can you explain why the books were kept like this, or do I need to tell Harlan of the suspicious nature of these records?”

The mention of Harlan’s name couldn't not have made them any paler. Fear and apprehension in their gazes and postures. The boy cracked.

“That’s just how she told me to do the books. Said it would sway Harlan from wanting to close us.” He confessed, his father quick to smack the back of his head and hissing.

“Hey!” Lena seethed, nostrils flared as the act reminded her of Nika. Her haunches raised and teeth grit. “There will be no hitting children in my line of sight. Understand?” She growled.

“He is not a child. He is a young man, a young man who has- “ The man broke off into that language again.

“HEY!” She smacked the table whilst growling, Dopey - lured by her tone of voice - crawled up and out of her shirt where he had hidden, perched on her shoulder hissing. “Is he under eighteen years of age?”

Both father and son had taken a step back. The woman - Florian’s wife - had stepped around, her mouth dropped open when she met Lena’s lyrium blue eyes. She paled when catching sight of the spider on her shoulder, which Lena absently pet.

“If he is under eighteen, then he is a _child_. You do not hit your children unless they have done something wrong, and even then only if appropriate. But there are other methods of punishment that do not harm physically.” Lena explained, feeling her stomach twist with guilt. She really needed to get Nika out of there. “Understand?” She accentuated the word with a swipe of her finger.

“Y-yes.” Florian gulped, pulling his son in front of him.

“Good. I’m glad we’re in _agreement_ . If I come back here next week and find any bumps and bruises on him, I will personally be _very disappointed_.” Selena sighed, closed her eyes and breathed a calming breath. “Now then, Taolin was it? Did I pronounce that right?”

Taolin nodded, shakily and confused as her tone took on a gentle demeanor

“Who told you to do the books like this?”

* * *

 

“Blasted arsebiscuit piece of crap elf.” Lena growled as she stalked out of Florian’s Flavoring, book tucked under her as she veered right heading toward the nearest exit to go to Lowtown to visit a certain female elf in the alienage.  Only she would have if she didn’t nearly run right into something very bright white and shiny - or rather someone. Her head smacking against something metallic as she stumbled backwards.

“Nug humping whores!” She swore, rubbing her temple. “Watch where you’re going-” She spat but paused when she got a look at the person she bumped into. “Sebastian?!” She gaped at the armor, _the armor_ she knew him from.

“Lena?” His voice whispered once he gained his footing again, staring down at her in awe. He blinked and rubbed his watering eyes. Then in a small, barely perceptible voice he muttered, “Mama?”

She hadn’t actually gone out to find Sebastian to let him know she was alive, only because he hadn’t been seen. Even Nika had said she hadn’t seen him for awhile, once Lena learned what Sebastian and Varric had done for her. The girl came by the Hanged Man every morning to make sure she wasn’t dreaming - that Lena was in fact alive every day. It was cute, frustrating those first few days when Varric had been insatiable but now she was used to the girl’s presence while they ate breakfast. She’d gotten used to once again curbing her cursing and likewise Varric had as well. She really hated kids, making her be responsible and considerate. The _nerve_ of them.

“Sebastian, your armor...It’s so..white and shiny.” She blinked. “I think I can even see my reflection in them. Hold still. It’s catching the light just right.” She joked with a grin, if only to break the tension. That seemed to break the stupor he was in and a few tears dripped down his cheeks. They weren’t in private and she couldn’t wipe them, so she kept her distance. Except that wasn’t what Sebastian wanted because he knelt down and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry, mama. I know I’m not supposed to but I thought, I was sure you had-”

“Died? Yeah yeah. Get the hug over with now.” She sighed, resigned to it. They weren’t inside the confines of the bedroom so she couldn’t exactly force him to adhere to her rules - public displays of their roles wasn’t what they had agreed on. “I should really blame Varric for not sending you a letter or word or something but he said you weren’t able to be reached.” Lena sighed.

“I-” Sebastian pulled back, standing with a bright smile. “I was gone to Starkhaven to visit my family.”

“You-” Lena did double-take. “You visited your family?” They were alive, she had to remember that. Or rather, she had to find a way to save them if she could.

“Yes my father gifted me this armor in commemoration of my taking my vows.” Sebastian explained.

“Vows?” Lena stared at him and then really looked at his armor, including the Andraste’s chastity belt buckle.

“Yes. I would like you to meet someone, if you have time that is.” Sebastian chewed his bottom lip. “I know you do not have fond memories of the Chantry…” He gulped as they both remembered the murder they had taken part in. “But there is someone who greatly wished to meet the person responsible for helping me.”

“Helping you?” Lena stared. She really hoped she wasn’t about to go meet who she thought she was - she really did not want to meet her. She would like to avoid any more Chantry folk if possible, but given her association with Sebastian - who was now a fully pledged brother - she doubted he could dodge Elthina for very long. “How did I help you?” The only help she gave him was aiding his relief by guiding his untraditional kinks.

“You showed me acceptance where so many did not.” Sebastian spoke and held his arm out to her.

Acceptance? She could see that. In her world their particular interests were still considered deviant, she could only imagine what they are viewed as here. Perish the thought of Iron Bull one day openly discussing his bedroom preferences involving leather straps, whips, and gags without a spirit of compassion prompting it.

She took Sebastian’s arm. “Alright. I’ll admit I did do that. But that’s just normal.” Lena shrugged. “Plus it would have been hypocritical of me to not accept you considering my own proclivities. I do apologize Sebastian, I would have found you sooner but I’ve a new occupation, it’s...trying.”

“You need not apologize. I am simply enthused you are well. I- Oh, the child. Little Nika, she will be so pleased - or is she. Was she told?” Sebastian directed them toward the Chantry in slow even steps, not in a rush and if anything it was almost leisurely. Lena liked it, if only because she felt dread every time she spotted the Chantry. Memories of Petrice’s bashed face crept behind her eyelids, reminding her of her sins.

She might very well need to confess, if only to ease her conscious. Hopefully the confessional will be open.

Any other time before, this would not have been advised.  Especially so openly and because Lena had to wear the sash on her shoulder to mark her as a Red Lantern District worker. But now, now she wore a dress that varric had bought her and looked- well she looked like an upper Lowtowner on the arms of a known Brother of the Chantry who just took his vows.

“She knows. You said you just took your vows? Does this mean I won’t be seeing you every Tuesday?” She prodded his side, teasing. His cheeks flushed but there was a wicked look to his gaze as he smiled.

“Nay, I dare say I may even be visiting you more often.” Sebastian grinned, cheeky and exuberant.

“But you took your vows. Doesn’t joining the Chantry mean a vow of chastity?”

“Not always. Many do but it isn’t frowned upon to forego those vows.” Sebastian explained, impressed by her knowledge. “I was not aware you knew so much about the Chantry. I always thought you were…”

“A blasphemous heathen?” She offered.

“Not in so many words but...“ Sebastian chuckled. “Yes.”

“I know a bit about the Chantry, you watch you read. Experience. It comes to you. So… if you didn’t take a vow of Chastity, what vows did you take?” Selena asked, curious. Without a vow of chastity, that means if Hawke wanted to they could have a marriage and not just a chaste one.

“Charity and Justice.” He spoke with reverence, head raised toward the sky.

“Sorry, charity and _justice?_ ” Lena smiled wide. Charity she understood but justice? ‘ _Oh, when he meets Anders…_ ’ Snorting. “Why Justice?”

“I vowed, to the maker I would find the one responsible for well your death.” Sebastian opened up. “But I thank the Maker was watching over you.”

“Aw. That’s so sweet.”

“What did happen? Messere Tethras would not speak of it, but he had seemed so-”

Lena frowned. “Not today. Another time.” She sighed. She was just beginning to get to some kind of normal again, she didn’t want to think about it - especially not so soon. She’d even managed to continually dodge questions about it from Varric. Though she was sure he was getting wise to it.

“I will not pry. I'm just pleased you did not perish. Madame Lena.” He whispered, looking down at her with such warming relief and care, Lena couldn't help but flush. She blamed his good looks. She really did. No one should be that good looking and wholesome, the Maker should forbid it especially given his proclivities. He could smile that sweet smile and ask for anything and just as quickly turn that grin devilish and dirty.  It was the sort of smile that you’d sell your soul to without a second thought. Dangerous but sweet.

They came upon the Chantry’s great golden doors but instead they bypassed it.

“Er Sebastian?”

“She’ll be in the gardens now.”

 _Right_. Lena frowned but kept up with him as they walked to a side entrance via the Chantry courtyard.  The garden was a lush place, surrounded by five walls of the Chantry hall, the chantry dormitories for the sisters and brothers, the mess hall, the Reverred Mother’s manor that the Grand Cleric had taken residence in. The last wall was actually open up to the cliff face Kirkwall’s Hightown saw atop on and looking down at Lowtown. But they were so high up you had to stand at the railing to actually see down into Lowtown. Instead it looked more like a view out into the ocean and the shore. The garden was another hexe like in Lowtown allowing everyone to view the gardens, but there were only so many entry points.  One of which was from the Chantry Hall specifically and the other from the manor.

The was a stone pathway with iron fences and gates allowing you to enter the rather large garden where some higher ranked sisters sat. Most of them ignored her, but did shoot Sebastian a look or two. It was a look Lena knew all too well, and one Sebastian knew as well but he ignored them instead directing their steady steps toward where an elderly woman was knelt in her chantry robes, her sleeves rolled up and a brown smock over the front with large pockets.  

Elthina was working to weed what looked like a bed of flowers. They looked perennial because it was still too cold for flowers to bloom even if they were heading toward spring. The ones Elthina was working with looked like daisies, bright yellow and warm. But they had stripes of orange on each petal.  

Sebastian left her by the gate to this section of the garden. He strolled toward where Elthina was who looked up at him with a warm smile. Lena watched them exchange greetings and words.

That’s when the panic spiked through her. Lena felt like running. It oddly felt like meeting the parents of your significant other after dating them for awhile and she had never done well with that. She gulped and reached into the off white bell sleeved shirt where Dopey was hidden. The small acid spitting spider sensing her nervousness purred. She then directed her hand to her bun and brushed the spider webs away.

Selena quickly straightened the dark forest green skirts with the lace trim and ensure the lacing in the front was in a perfect bow. She reminded herself to thank Varric profusely for buying her dresses - even if she hated how innocent they looked. Her fingers were stained with some ink splotches but she couldn’t really do much about that could she?  She could. Spitting into her hands, she rubbed the ink away on the inside of her skirt quick and vigorous and then stood up straight and smiled as Sebastian looked back at her.

“Madame Lena, I would like you to meet -” Sebastian and Elthina walked up to the gate - supposedly Lena wasn’t allowed past the gate. Or maybe because was wearing a dress that actually covered her feet and dragged on the stone.

“I know who she is, Bassy.” Lena cooed, sweet and innocent like - eyes wide to drive the point home. He knew the look. She’d used it once on him in the bedroom.  “It is a _pleasure_ to meet you, Grand Cleric Elthina.” Lena purred out with an emphasis on _pleasure_ that made Sebastian laugh with a smile, the tips of his ears turning a delightful pink. Lena held her hand out and up to the elder human - manners dictating her to do so. “I am Madame Selena River.”

Elthina was impassive but her eyes did widen as she looked to Sebastian, surprise. But she took Lena’s offered hand and shook it lightly. Selena squeezed a tad harder than necessary, feeling exactly how old she really was.  The wrinkles at her joints and the jutting bones of her wrist telling tale of her exceedly skinny frame. It boiled down to one fact.  Lena could take her - physically. All she would have to is knock her over and sit on her chest. Her lips curled up.

“I understand you and Sebastian met at - “

“The Blooming Rose, yes.” Lena interrupted with all the honesty in the world. A passing Sister gasped but kept her head down.  Lena wasn’t about to _lie_ to the Grand Cleric. Though Sebastian’s sharp intake of breath and stiff posture let her know he hadn’t been fully honest with her - at least not in such a blunt manner. Elthina’s brows rose. “Pardon my bluntness.”

“It’s refreshing actually. So many believe me to be too sensitive to understand the common desires.” Elthina sent an amused look Sebastian’s way, admonishing him but opened the gate - gesturing for Lena to walk into the garden. Lena accepted the invitation. “I was young once as well.” She joked with a sly grin toward Sebastian who looked affronted.  “If you believed I did not know where exactly you were disappearing off to every Tuesday morning, then you you are far more naive than I believed, my boy.”

Lena snorted at the way Sebastian was blushing and smiling. She liked Elthina, or this side of her but Lena wouldn’t forget the lack of reaction she would one day exercise.

“Well, he certainly wasn’t saying the chant early Tuesday mornings that’s for sure.” Lena quirked a smirk. Elthina released a laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Selena!” Sebastian gasped and looked to Elthina, embarrassment and shame coloring his cheeks.

“No I dare say he wasn’t.” She covered her mouth with another laugh and smile, directing Selena further into the garden.

“So, Grand Cleric-” Lena followed after her, careful to raise her skirts a bit so it didn’t get too dirty.  She found it was exceedingly expensive to have to wash her clothes every week and instead just wore the same garment at least twice before switching out.

“I’m sure the formality can be dropped now, Madame Lena?” Elthina offered with kind eyes. This really wasn’t who she expected to meet.

“Certainly.” Lena conceded but steely spoke her name, old memories and feelings coming up. “Elthina.”

“Selena.” Elthina spoke in turn. “Sebastian, be a dear and fetch us some tea. I’m feeling a tad parched.”

“Of course. Lena?”

“None for me, thank you.” Selena waved, despite Elthina’s raised brow. “Some water would be lovely however.”

“Boiled?” Sebastian asked obediently.

“If you please.” if she ever drank water it was always boiled water to ensure ti was clean, purified at least. Though it would be purified for sure if she had iodine tablets, but sadly she didn’t so she made due. It had been some time since she’d gotten explosively sick from the well water from Kirkwall - hopefully the Chantry’s water supply was significantly better. Elthina didn’t seem to judge but at Sebastian’s departure she directed their steps to a small stone table and ornately carved wooden seats.

“I had not known you were a dwarfess.” Elthina

_Dwarfess? That’s a new one._

“Haven’t you ever seen a dwarva prostitute?” Lena countered with narrowed gaze. Again her bluntness had Elthina pause and stare at her, this time her nose wrinkled as though disgusted before it smoothed - a pleasant placating smile stretched. _That_ ticked Lena off.

“Oh I’ve heard of them.” Elthina smoothed her smock. “Though seeing one is certainly quite new. You’re not what I expected given…” Elthina glanced back toward where Sebastian had went and then toward Lena.

“You expected a _human_ woman to have taken care of his _particular_ needs?” Lena danced around it. There was being blunt and then there was being obscene. Plus she did still have the contract with Sebastian in place. She’d honor that above all else.  Being known to using a prostitute is one thing, but using one with her facet of skills? Not exactly daytime conversation.

“Not necessarily. But I have heard your name spoken, as of late.” Elthina offered, dodging Lena’s insinuations of calling her a racist.

“Oh? And just where have you heard my name? Here I thought you were young _once_ , but clearly are not now.” It wasn’t a stab at her age, and judging by the almost _too_ pleasant expression, she knew.  

“Actually I heard it from a friend of mine, Destan de Launcet.” She answered. Lena squinted. “I understand congratulations are in order. Your new employment certainly seems…” Elthina paused, a faint fake vapid look to her eyes as she pretended to weigh her words. It wasn’t too easy but Lena had dealt with liars before, even sneaky ones like Elthina and Varric. “...influential.”

“That it is. But I have qualms with using said influence for my benefit only. I’m an honest businesswoman. Make no mistake.” Lena raised her chin, staring Elthina down - or up as the human was taller than her even whilst seated. The sun was high and Lena was working up a sweat on the back of her neck.

“It certainly is relieving to find honest young folk in this day and age.” Elthina looked up, squinting as she took in the morning sun. “Especially with regard to Sebastian. It would pain me to know he was once again taken in by the wrong sorts, especially as he has turned to the Maker and Andraste.” The Grand Cleric sent a sideways look to Lena, implying that Lena was the “wrong sorts.”

“I share your sentiments, actually.  It’s why I encouraged him to take his vows.” Lena’s rebuttal threw Elthina off, her eyes widened.

“You encouraged him to take his vows?”

“Oh he didn’t tell you about that, did he?” Lena stretched, her back cracking as her grin went from apprehensive to shit-eating. Some months back Sebastian had interrupted one of their sessions with a firmly spoken _yellow_. He needed a break and instead of them continuing he spoke his concerns, his guilt over continuing to see her whilst also contemplating on the vows he would be taking.

_“Yellow.” Sebastian moaned with a cry as he knelt on the bed, his arse up in the air as Lena thrust into him slow and steady._

_“What is it?” Lena removed the makeshift strap-on she wore. The contraption of belts, loops, and cut leather harness contained the polished wooden smooth dildo was wet with the oils. It was something she had carved in the spare time she was granted thanks to her client that was below her. The first time she brought it out, he has been apprehensive until she taught him how to take it - slowly and with the right preparations.  Now it was his and her favorite toy, but she wouldn’t use it with anyone else. Not that she had any other client._

_“I am...” Sebastian sighed as he turned on the bed, bright eyes staring at her - brows furrowed._

_“Sebastian, yellow is for a break.” She admonished but let Sebastian turn over. “But, I’ll forgive it this once.” She didn’t remove the harness but did sit next to Sebastian, pulling the mug of ale she had set on the bedside table and drank. She offered it to Sebastian who took a sip. “Tell me, what troubles you?”_

_The royal archer dropped his head into his hands, legs crossed cock brandished high between them as he breathed. “I am to take my vows soon.” He muttered._

_“Your vows?” She nodded, unsure. “That’s cool.”_

_“Cool?” He was getting used to her vernacular._

_“Excellent? I mean you chose to become a Chantry initiate.  This must be an exciting time for you?” Lena asked._

_“I wish it were but I only feel mortal guilt.” Sebastian rubbed his face._

_“Guilt? Shouldn’t you be feeling proud?” Lena leant forward, nudging his shoulder. “All your hard work is culminating to the vigil - you take a vigil right?” She frowned pondering if she was confusing the procedure with the Seeker vigil._

_“Yes, for a week.” Sebastian frowned. “I will have to terminate our arrangement.”_

_“Oh.” Lena’s brows rose. “Well...shit.” She’d have to find another way to make coin now._

_“Shit? Shit?! Lena, it means I cannot see you once I am a brother of the cloth. I-I do not think I will be able to-” He worried his bottom lip, torn - gaze glistening with unshed tears.  She would have admonished him for using her name but the conversation clearly had moved past the roles of domme and submissive - they were speaking as friends now._

_“If being a brother is something you’ve been working toward diligently, then you keep working toward it. Don’t let anything stop you - not even our arrangement.” She shrugged, thinking of how much debt she owed and what she could do to clear it._

_“Being a brother is something I want.” Sebastian muttered but his brows furrowed. “But I need our arrangement.” He whispered, ashamed._

_One brow quirked up. “Need? Sebastian, you don’t need this. This is something you do because you want.”_

_“No. Lena...I need it.”_

_“I know it may seem like you need it when you’re cock is half cocked.” She smirked._

_“No!” Sebastian seethed. “I need it.” He insisted._

_“Sebastian, don’t be-” Lena cut off when he gripped her arms, pleading - desperate gaze making her gulp. “That hurts.” She lowered her voice, commanding and assuming the role of domme. Sebastien froze and averted his gaze._

_“I’m sorry, Mama.” His own voice was complacent and apologetic but he only loosened his grip._

_“It is alright.” She cooed, hand raised to brush his hair back, fingers sliding close to his scalp and then she gripped tight and drew him closer. “Tell me why you need this?”_

_Vael gulped, slow but met her gaze and nodded. “I cannot go more than a week without your touch, your mouth, your fingers.” He spoke soft and delicious in that voice he knew tempted her. “Bringing me to release in so many ways - repeatedly.”_

_“Sebastian.” Lena gulped, legs squirming. He knew her buttons were his voice. “You’re a little shit.” She seethed - yanking his head back and attacked his neck with a harsh bite and suck. He cried out, her unoccupied hand reaching down to give his manhood a teasing pump. Her eyes flitted closed as she feasted on his skin, licking and sucking her way down to his nipples._

_If this would be the last couple of times she got to cause him pleasure then she’d make sure it was the best. She’ll pull out all the stops, make it so he wouldn’t “need” any of this anymore. The Chantry was terrible to deprive it’s flock of sexual pleasures, especially this for Sebastian. It’s not like it would interfere with any of his duties. It’d just be another bureaucratic  hypocrisy to add to the pile of the Chantry’s own practices._

_“Sebastian!”  She gasped and sat upright and pulled away._

_“Mama…” he groaned. “Please.”_

_“Sebastian! What’s stopping you from continuing our arrangement anyway?” She questioned suddenly and releasing his hair._

“He told me, that all Chantry personnel from Brothers and Sisters all the way to Divine are not allowed to engage in romantic relationships.” She grinned at Elthina as her explanation finished, though with less than vulgar details.  “As their love is reserved for the Maker as Andraste had done.”

“So then you understand why it is prudent for you to discontinue your services with him?” Elthina spoke.

“Why? What Sebastian and I have is _not_ romantic.” Selena grinned. “I’m not getting in between his love for the Maker. So he is neither breaking his vows nor Chantry law. What he and I have, is a _business_ transaction.” Selena smiled sweetly.

Elthina reaction was not what she expected, in fact she looked almost smug. Lena squinted at her up until Elthina’s gaze traveled up and behind Lena.  

“I told you Sebastian, the girl is using you.” Elthina spoke to Sebastian who stood behind Lena’s seat with a tray of tea. His gaze forlorn and down as he eyed Selena, placing her cup of clean water in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was longer than expected. ~~That's what she said.~~ And incidentally took longer. I'm gearing up for Nanowrimo so I took a little bit of extra time to get this right before potentially there being only two updates the next month. 
> 
> In case you're wondering where Florian and his family are from, they are from the insular Northern island in the Boeric Ocean known to Thedas as Par Ladi.


	30. Working Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena's routine begins. Dealing with the higher ups, dealing with Varric's shenanigans, and dealing with her own desires to change things.

Selena wanted to explain to Sebastian what she meant but instead made eye contact with him. His forlorn expression powerfully tugging at her heart. For him to have heard the conversation she’d had with Elthina, it created a terrible twisted guilt that permeated in her abdomen. She knew what their meetings meant to him, knew how they mattered to him.  She only wished Elthina wasn’t exactly the conniving woman she had expected. Lena should have prepared better for this.  She expected him to turn away but instead he sighed and slid into the seat next to her much to the Grand Cleric’s surprise.

His brows furrowed as Lena placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug it off, which was a good sign. His expression became one of disappointment that was directed not just at Lena but Elthina as well. That surprised both of them, and gave Lena the satisfaction that it wasn’t just her that did wrong.

“I had hoped you two might get along.” Sebastian mutter with a slow shake of his head. “Clearly that will not be the case.”

“Sebastian?” Elthina questioned.

“I understand my use of…” Sebastian looked to Lena. “Her services is confusing for you, but I assure you, Madame Selena is not using me.”  Sebastian served tea. Lena remained silent, but her lips quirked up smugly - at least until he gave her a sharp look. “Though to describe our interactions as merely a business transaction, Lena, that certainly isn’t very forthcoming of you. Of course Elthina would assume you to use me if you phrase it like that.”

“And isn’t she? She knows who you are and is allowing you to make use of her…” Elthina gave Lena a scrutinizing look. “... _wares_ for coin.”  

Madame River rolled her eyes, sat up straight and rolled her head and shoulders to relax herself as though about to do a strenuous task. “Sebastian, please do recall our non-disclosure agreement. I can’t very well divulge much more than is absolutely necessary. If she doesn’t understand that is fine by me, but what you reveal to her is entirely up to you.  If you want her to understand why I’m _not_ using you, it very well might require breaking contract. But I adhere to my contracts with the utmost loyalty - so that responsibility and burden lies entirely in your hands.”

Sebastian’s eyes brightened as the disappointment fled. “I see.” His lips quirked and then he frowned as he considered Elthina.

Elthina looked between Sebastian and Selena, confused.

“Sebastian, please explain.”

The royal archer opened his mouth, and with a sideways look to Lena - asking for permission. She shrugged, reiterating it was his choice.

“It is difficult to explain.” Sebastian poured his own tea. “If anyone is using anyone, it is me. I am using Lena.” He did not raise his voice but was coming clean as he prepared the tea for one of the most important people in his life. He slid the cup to the Grand Cleric and looked up. “Some time ago, you told me to live my life as I sought fit. That no one should have to use the back entrance to the Chantry. You gave me coin and and welcomed me back again and again as I was not ready to dedicate myself to the Maker and Andraste. So I did as you said. I lived my life as I sought. I didn't know what I was looking, or why exactly I sought the company I did.  But I am most grateful for you allowing me to walk out of the Chantry. Had it not been for you giving me the freedom to choose, I may not have ever found Lena who gave me something I couldn't receive - not even with the Chantry.”

“Acceptance with no judgement.” Selena jumped in to answer the unspoken question Elthina was about to ask. Lena caught the twitch in her upper lip, the sneer barely suppressed.

“The Chantry offers acceptance. Only the Maker can judge.” Elthina spoke defensively, derisive of what Lena could possibly offer.

“The Chantry is an establishment, an inanimate idea and object - building.” Lena gestured around them for emphasis. “And ideas do not judge, they are neutral.”  

Elthina considered her, with a pleased a smile. About to speak once again but Lena interrupted again - imagining the “Grand Cleric Elthina Greatly Disapproves” showing up.

“But people are not ideas. And people… “ Lena weighed her words careful with a smile. “...are immensely stupid and judgemental. The Chantry can be as righteous as a clever tongue can spin it but you will never convince me that it’s people that serve are without their vices, their mortal proclivities.” River offered, taking over the conversation for Sebastian. “Do not tell me that none of your flock are more devoted than others, that some are more outspoken than others. Especially with what they perceive to be right and just.”

Again, Lena noted the twitch in her upper lip, this time accompanied by the wrinkling of her brow. Squashing the desire to smirk, she sat back.

“While that may be true,” Elthina began.

“Not just may. You know it’s true.” Lena spoke under her breath.

“Selena.” Sebastian admonished. If they were behind closed doors, he’d be getting a spanking for his back talk. Then again, Lena was doing her fair share of back talk but the difference was she didn’t respect the Grand Cleric.  

“Sebastian, you are free to be who you wish to be. Despite some of our more outspoken brothers and sisters. We will always accept you.” The Grand Cleric spoke softly. “You can be yourself here, you know this.” Elthina tried to reason, reaching a hand to touch his.

For a heavy second, Lena watched Sebastian - the care and affection he exuded toward Elthina and the _devotion._ She was almost entirely jealous of it. She fought the urge to smack Elthina’s hand away and hiss at her. No one - _no one_ \- touched her pets.

“Can I truly?” Sebastian asked, hopeful.

“Of course, my child.” Elthina grasped his hand.

Lena quirked a brow. Surely he wouldn’t just accept her on her word?

“And, if the person I wish to be is someone who on occasion must attain the services of a particularly skilled prostitute on a semi-regular basis?” He posed, carefully and low.

Pride gleaned in Lena’s smile - not for being labeled as skilled but rather for Sebastian not taking Elthina at her word.

“You don’t need a slatt- woman such as her.” Elthina insisted with a grandmotherly sweet tone.  “You don’t know where else she’s been. You haven’t met her other customers.”

Lena had always hated that tone from her own grandmother and abuella - the silent and hidden bias against her had been the bane of her existence until she cut ties with them. Gossiping old ninnies that they were - Hispanic grandmothers were always a chore to handle. So she ground her teeth, lips taut in a overtly pleasant smile, eyes flashing dangerous with intent. If looks could kill, she would have committed homicide a hundred times over. She only wished her legs were longer to cause harm under the table. She missed her old height like she did with her abuella that one time she asked Selena when she’d find a boyfriend, settle down and stop chasing her aspirations. _Never you bruja pendeja!_  

“My my, Grand Cleric, that sounded almost _judgmental_.” Lena cut in - eager to give her a verbal smackdown after hearing the almost slur. Lena wasn't fond of Chantry personnel. While Elthina had of as yet to give her provocation - her future inaction scratched the surface of Selena’s mind, she was still on thin ice. It intermingled with the memory of Petrice - one of Elthina’s favorites - holding Sebastian captive, hurting him and then her memory swirled on Petrice’s bashed face and blood splattered on the Chantry’s pristine floors, of the future she could have had of the strife and chaos that one Chantry sister could have caused. And in the center was Elthina, who would have promoted the sister to Mother eventually, had she lived. Lena’s teeth ground as she felt sick and faint. She breathed heavy, but spat, “Do you have a problem with those of my trade?”

“Selena.” Sebastian warned, placing a hand on her shoulder to draw her back but Lena sent him a sharp glare. Sebastian drew back as though burned, seeing bright glowing blue anger and anguish in her normally dark eyes.

“I have no problem with those of your trade. I respect the service you do.” Elthina spoke calmly.

“And the sizable tithe you force us to make.” Lena growled below her breath. She'd heard Luisine complain about that and had seen the ridiculous amount in the books. It was robbery plain and simple just to remain in the Chantry’s good graces.

Elthina ignore the remark. “I simply am looking out for Sebastian's best interests.”

“His best interests?” Lena squinted, anger flailing. “If you're looking out for his best interests than you should know then that he was being abused-” Sebastian hissed reaching to stop her. Lena snapped her mouth shut and breathed but it was too late. Elthina straightened her back, senses sharp and looked to Sebastian with clear unadulterated worry.

“Sebastian?”

“It is nothing, Elthina.” He placated.

“Please, my child.” She pleased reaching for him.

Sebastian frowned, shaking his head. For a long time no one said anything. Their drinks ignored. The sound of the not so distant ocean crashed, birds chirped and the faint breeze rustled the garden’s quaint grouping of trees that were perfectly tended and sprouting leaves and buds for the upcoming spring season.

“It is not something I wish to relive. But know that Selena was there to protect me at her own cost. I will always be indebted to her for that.” His voice was shaky and low, on the cusp of crying as he relived those memories despite his words. Lena felt awful to bring them back. He was a victim and she just reminded him of those times.

“I see.” Elthina spoke with resignation, looking to Lena. They were steely, untrusting. “But how can you be sure she has no ulterior motives or desires to empty your inheritance?”

“I can assure you, if she had any desire to empty me of my inheritance - she would have done so already. She has had plenty of opportunities.” Sebastian offered. It was true. Sebastian knew what prostitutes of Lena’s particular talents normally cost, but he dared not venture to Darktown for such services. It was a stroke of luck he had decided to purchase her maidenhead, even if it turned out to be a lie. But it was well worth it in the end.

His two most important people in his life, stared each other down. Elthina with a considering look and Lena with crossed arms with a defensive posture. He was unsure who would relent first but he hoped desperately they would come to an understanding. He nudged Lena’s shoulder and she rolled her eyes but sighed.

“Ugh. Fine. If it makes you feel better.” Lena grumbled. “I swear to the Maker I am not using Sebastian Vael for his coin.” Selena offered and held one hand up and the other over her heart.

Sebastian knew religion - and indeed faith in the maker - was not something Selena practiced nor believed but she did not deny others from practicing or ridicule those for believing. So this proclamation left him shocked, until he saw the teasing glint in her eye.

“It does.” Elthina admitted, not noticing the sarcastic lilt to Lena’s words. Sebastian noticed but said nothing.

“Wonderful. Now that we are finished. I must bid you good day.” Lena climbed out of the seat. Sebastian also rose and Elthina did as well. Lena gave a curt to the Grand Cleric and then shot a smirk at Sebastian. “See you next Tuesday.”

She left them there in the garden before Sebastian could offer to walk her back. It wouldn't do to have him walk her to the alienage where she was going to likely bully a still healing elf. Darting out of the chantry, she took hurried steps to get as far from it as quickly as she could.

* * *

 

The pounding behind his eyelids is what greeted Varric that morning. He wasn’t even awake yet and he felt like shit, his mouth dry and loins aching in a way he hadn't felt since he was a much younger man with a cocky grin and even cockier words. He charmed too many ladies easily by his witty words and equally as wicked tongue. He groaned whilst rolling over in bed, greeted by the now familiar curly mass of hair of his new bedmate and roommate.

She was curled up on her side, as far from him as she could. He always had to pull her back to the center of the bed every morning and into his arms. She'd complain and pout but then settle down. Although in more recent days she's pushed him away, complaining of sweat and heat.

Her plump drastic sloping frame was a welcome sight, usually. Today however he groaned and shifted away as he cupped himself through his night trousers. His balls ached and his cock felt abused from the vigorous working it had received the past three weeks. They had been filled with a near unstoppable amount of coupling with her. He hadn't been able to get enough. Her taste, her soft skin, the swell of her breasts, her voice - maker her voice. Just the memory of her moans and screams as he brought her to release over and over had him painfully hard in his trousers. He hissed and climbed out of the bed quiet as the night. He relieved himself in the chamber pot and splashed chilled water to bring his painfully eager cock down.

Varric worked the pain from his eyes with the pads of his fingers as sore muscles and aching joints stretched, a tremor in his hands and a clicking in his overworked jaw. He stepped out of his bed chambers whilst pulling a tunic on. He took in the room, an assortment of papers - both his and Lena’s were still spread across the table. She'd been filling forms for her patent, writing the merchant’s guild as he’d told her to when he'd returned from his own duties to find her tapping her foot and humming a song he'd never heard and her hips jutting to whatever melody played in her head. Her shapely behind had set him off or perhaps her low breathy murmurings. Either way he had pinned her to the table, kneeling between her legs eager to have them tremble around him.

It went from the table to the wall, where Varric could recall the strain in his arms as he held her up their hips frantically shuddering against each other. Briefly they were on the floor, much to his amusement because she barked orders at him to pick her back up. He had whilst swinging her around until she fell against the bed with a giggle. Then it ended as she rode him with a coy dominating smile.

Varric stretched his overworked jaw as he cleaned up their papers, arranging them neatly intending on putting them away when a purchase order caught his eye. It was for a building on the docks. He glanced over it, he knew the place. It was a terrible location for a warehouse or a workshop as it was located too far from the main docks and tucked halfway into the cliff face. It was a bad location for any smith. He'd have to ask Lena what she intended to use it for, unless it was a purchase for the Coterie. Last he’d heard she had restructured the way they managed their books - working her numbering system into all of them and was taking time to teach each business owner how to use her numerals. It was catching in a way he hadn’t thought to the point certain heads of the Merchant’s Guild were asking him about its origin.

He’d eventually have to introduce Lena to the guild despite not wanting her anywhere near them and their machinations. He was already entangled in the undercity for them. They’d chew Lena up for everything she could offer and leave her wasted and drained with not a coin to her name. The assumption that there was little difference between the Carta and the Merchant’s Guild was right, almost to a fault.

Nonetheless, it was only a matter of time until they found her what with her working with Bianca.  And given how often Lena disappeared to Bianca’s workshop, he knew she'd eventually want a workshop of her own. She was just like that. Wanting her own space to work, it's why she tried to work when he wasn't here - something about him being distracting. He snorted in agreement. So perhaps it was for a workshop? He’d have to tell her it wasn’t a very good space for one. He knew of other locations in Kirkwall - closer ones. He wondered if a room in Lowtown was all she needed. He’d be willing to bet Corff wouldn’t mind letting her take over a room and offer her a good deal.

Setting her papers together, he went to put them away in one of his drawers where he had made room for her to store her items. His hands stilled when he noted how empty the drawer was. Varric knew she had many papers and parchments - where was she storing them?

He turned and her pile caught his attention. Her bags of clothes neatly laundered on top of her sole money box in a corner - his brows furrowed. He had plenty of space in his chest and drawers. Why wouldn’t she use them? Her belongings were tucked away in a pile as though she didn't expect to stay here - ready to move at a moment’s notice.

He took a sharp breath, looking back to the bed chambers. Varric began storming back to bed, to wake her when he recalled the purchase. It _was_ a terrible location for any business or workshop. But what if she wasn't using it for business?

Letting her sleep, he closed the bedroom door and went about his morning. He brushed his teeth before shaving and washing. He only went back into the bedroom to retrieve a fresh pair of trousers and his shoes. He had many questions and expected answers. Some he had _paid for_ previously but he let her go on without answering. He left the Hanged Man after a bite and with a purpose to visit the keep. He had a favor from the Seneschal to call in. And really what was one more warehouse to the Tethras name? If anything, his brother could find a use for it.

 

* * *

 

Selena woke to an empty cold bed. A welcome relief, one she enjoyed as she tossed the covers off and stared up at the ceiling enjoying the quiet and solitude for a few seconds before she was up and getting ready. She had a million things to do all before lunch today and then she had to meet with the Seneschal to deliver the tax collection to the Viscount’s Keep. She wasn’t overly fond of Seneschal Bran. He’d gotten Sabina pregnant a few months ago. The elven woman was trying to hide it so she could keep working. It was just another reason why she wanted access to Para tree sap.

As it turned out, birth control was something that was the man’s responsibility in Thedas. Witherstalk sap was to be consumed by the man, not the woman at least twenty minutes prior to coitus. That certainly explained why Luisine was insistent on every customer having a drink before using her girls’ services and why her gentlemen service workers always had a mug of ale with them.  She’d always assumed they needed to be drunk to have sex with some of their patrons - not that she’d blame them.  A single drop of sap in an otherwise weak flagon of ale was enough to stave off impregnating anyone for up to twenty-odd hours.  

Unfortunately, It was also a considerable expense because witherstalk sap was only useful when it was fresh and finding an apothecary that can provide it in bulk on a weekly basis was hard, especially because it’d mean they’ve have to grow it. But of course there was also Idunna’s expertise. Blood magic abortions were truly terrifying to watch, she could only imagine what it was to experience it.

Lena shuddered, remembering the one moment where Idunna had to heal her. Blood magic felt like it was stretching something slimy and unpleasant over her skin and then shocking her. Or maybe it was just because it was Idunna. She was the only mage thus far she’s ever had much of any magical interaction with and it wasn’t pleasant.

The entirety of Varric’s apartment was empty save for her and Dopey, who she spotted crawling out of his designated webbing in the corner, his sleek blue-green tipped white fur making it easy to spot him. She was able to give herself a wash down without worry of Varric attacking her, or rather pleasing her. She didn’t know what had gotten into him, but ever since the Powder Room it was like he had abandoned his notion of setting the pace - of making her wait. Lena hated to admit but she had been enjoying the prolonged anticipation. But they’d fucked, and it wasn’t getting old either - she just needed a break! Her muscles ached and her the room itself reeked of sex to the point she refused to let Nika or Norah enter until the smell dissipated some each morning.

Thankfully with her now insistently working the stench of sex and sweat was beginning to clear out. It appeared his interest in sex - at the very least with her - was waning.  A spike of paranoia had her worried Varric was tired of her.  If she dwelled on it too long, she’d fret for potentially nothing.

With her teeth cleaned she turned the looking glass Varric had by the bowl of water.  It was nestled into metal stand that allowed it to be tilted and raised. She didn’t meet her own eyes but focused instead on her hair. It’s uneven cuts had grown longer, the streak of white hair on her left side was longer than she remembered. Frowning, she pulled open one of the drawers in the dresser her had to find the blades he used for shaving nestled in their leather case in the drawer. She pulled them out - detecting they were freshly cleaned, dried, and sharpened. She ignored most and instead grabbed the rather expensive pair of of shears. She set them by the bowl.

With a handful of water Lena wet her hair until it was dripping. The short curls uneven but it allowed her the ease of pulling on each lock and cutting it until it was the length she wanted it to be. It was shorter in the back with long framing bangs in the front. Selena made quick work of it, wishing to not have to wet it again. She brushed the hair off her shoulders and dumped it into the chamberpot. There was no hearth running. And while it was chilly it was warm enough during the day now that at night if they curled close it was enough to keep them warm through the night. As her hair dried she styled it as best she could. She’d have to find some way to get a styling gel of some sort. Maybe if she found someone who sold Tevinter products? She recalled Dorian saying something about grooming in game.

She turned to her pile of clothes after a brief washing, pulling on fresh smalls and breast band. She had to purchase more if she was going to remain unaffected by the sweat that would no doubt be bothering her soon enough.

She pulled out the fanciest dress Varric had purchased for her. The underdress was white and came to her ankles. The overdress was a dark off-green ring velvet patterned fabric. There was no corset but the bodice tied over her bosom and stomach with crisscrossing strings. It cinched with a darker and vibrant forest sash. The dress made her hips, waist, and bust pronounced from what she could see. It made her frown. Lena did not want to look more feminine if she was going to the Viscount’s Keep. She had no desire to make the Seneschal remember what he almost purchased all those many weeks ago. But there were no other dresses she could wear that would be appropriate for a visit to the Keep.

The skirt flared out and down covering her feet up until she pulled on her cotton socks and the leather boots that tied up to her knees. The sleeves of the dress belled out in a long obstructing way, hanging to low. But one positive was the dress had large and deep pockets that she stashed her coin purse in. She use the sash as a belt to hang her bag of quills and pens on.

Lena turned to the table where the stack of her papers were. She pulled one of the books from her pile and opened it. She was being paid three sovereigns a week for managing the books. With no rent or food  to pay, thanks to Varric’s generous donation of letting her stay in his room, she had nine sovereigns saved. Any expenses she’d made to further her goals with Bianca were coming from the box of coin she had collected in the cold wet caverns below Sundermount but it was dwindling low.  So low she was now looking to other sources of income now. The books is one thing, Sebastian’s continued use of her services netted her only 80 silvers a week. She needed more coin if she was going to survive until Hawke arrived in Kirkwall or draw the attention of Xenon enough to send her an invitation.

Which she had to figure out how to send a message to Hawke. If she had to wait until his or her arrival, she’d rather it be with the presence of a certain Malcolm in tow. The hawk pendant at her neck faintly hummed.

And speaking of coin.

Athenril had told Florian and many of the other business owners, to mark their books in such shady ways. It was due in part to make sure Harlan didn’t close shop on them. They would save their extra coin for their rainy days - or rather for the days when they didn’t make as much. Unfortunately some of them didn’t know how to make it less suspicious. For Florian it was especially imperative to do so, otherwise they would have nowhere else to go. If his business was closed and they were kicked out they’d be destitute and their homeland would not take them back. She’d never even heard of their homeland, at least she didn’t think so.  It sounded vaguely familiar. Par Ladi was an insular island in the Boeric Ocean, but once you left you were not allowed back. Florian and his family had left with only a few samplings of their trade. They made it work.

The elf had looked halfway healed when she had visited her, walking around with a cane. She was expected to get back to work again for Harlan. Lena couldn't fathom why she'd go back to work for the man who had sexually and physically abused her as a form of revenge, but Lena said nothing and left a few silvers for Arianne and Feynriel.

The alienage actually seemed livelier as well. There were more elves out and about and they seemed less fearful, though if a guard or thug ventured too close into the alienage they skirted away toward the tree. Thus far the only guard they really trusted was Donnic who made sure to pass through on his routes for lower Lowtown, or so she had heard.

Stepping down into the Hanged Man, she greeted Norah and Corff. A refilled water skin at her hip, an apple in her hand, she headed out. Wherever Varric had gone, she wasn't going to wait for him. She had things to do, one of which was a quick stop to the Gallows.

She needed another electricity rune and more copper wires. Her iPad was charging ever so slowly. She had to keep the darn thing off but the battery percentage was going up even if at an impossibly slow pace. She wanted something for her iPhone now that she knew it would work. Granted if she used the lesser powerful one she wouldn't need fruits as battery acid. It was a waiting game at this point.

The bright dawn did little to detract from the dreariness of the Gallows, but she made her way through with an empty sack at her back. Hopefully the tranquil there would still have what she needed.

Except it was more than just Tranquil in the courtyard. There were mages bustling and cleaning the courtyard, and working to magically wash and whiten the sides of the towers to upkeep the pristine appearance of the Gallows - despite the dreary and disheartening statues. There were at least a dozen pale faced mages present on top of the tranquil diligently working at the stalls, merchants bartering and haggling with them and the nearby Templars.  It was as busy as the Lowtown Market - if not more due to the ships docked at the Gallows.

Selena stepped past the Templars that gave her a once over, one of which settled on her for much longer before he stepped to her.

“Halt, messere.” He called with his gauntleted hand raised. Lena’s heart thudded, terrified for a moment.

“Yes?” Her voice cracked toward the end, shifting her sights around. No one looked her way, though some of the other Templars shifted. But the one who called her waved them off.

“I apologize, I did not intend to frighten.” He stepped up and removed his helm. A head of bright red hair with equally as vibrant beard and the kindest robin’s egg blue eyes she’d seen greeted her. She knew him! Or rather she’d seen him in the Rose. Ser Thrask typically kept the other templars in line when they got especially rowdy and he always went with Faith as his favored prostitute.

“Ser Thrask, was it?” She piped up.

“Ah. You remember me.” He smiled and gave a slight bow.

“Of course. I try to remember the patrons of the Rose when possible. You’ve a penchant for orange zested ale and Faith is your favorite.” Lena recalled from memory the times she’s had to deliver drinks up to the room for Quintus.

“You have quite a memory there Messere.” He answered sheepish.

“Madame.” Correcting a Templar on her title was something she hadn’t expected to do. “Madame Selena, or Lena if you please.”

That made his eyes light up. “My apologies, Madame Tethras.”

Selena’s brain stoppered as she gaped at him. “I- what? Tethras? Why would you assume I am a Tethras?”

“Are you not Varric’s lady? I must admit though, I wasn’t aware that you had survived. Varric made no mention.”

“I...I am _not_ Varric’s lady.” Selena wanted to bristle but she knew exactly who to blame for that. She recalled it being said to piss her off by Harlan but Thrask was saying it as though he believed it. “Despite what rumor he is peddling, I belong to no one am neither hitched or _claimed,_  like some prized pony. _That dwarf._ "

“I feel I must apologize again, Madame.”

“No you have nothing to worry about, Ser. I fully blame Varric for that rumor and he will get his comeuppance for it.” Lena winked at Thrask. A full hearty laugh was his response.

“Well, it is good to see you are well.”

“And you as well.”

“Is there anything in particular you are wishing to purchase. I recall the last visit you made to the Gallows had you speaking with our runecrafter Tate.”

“Oh! That was his name? I never got it. Actually is he around as well?” She asked, looking around at the stalls and not seeing him.

“His duty is not in the stall, as he is currently working on some research, but I can have him fetched.” Thrask smiled.

“That would be most helpful. I’d hate to have to describe my unusual runecrafting request again.”

Thrask tipped his head as he had one of the mages fetch the tranquil. The mage shifted, looking to Lena and nodded.

“He will be out shortly. In the meantime there are other stalls you may peruse. Today is the first day of spring so many of the circle’s wares are replenished.” Thrask spoke, gesturing to the other stalls. “Was there anything in particular you were looking for? Perhaps I can help direct you?”

“Thank you.” Lena smiled up at him and made to go toward the stalls when she remembered something about her last visit. It tickled in the back of her head. “Last time, there had been a mage. He’d dropped and was punished. Is he- is he alright?” She lowered her voice. She recalled something from the game about Thrask being a lot kinder to mages for some reason but she couldn’t remember why.  

Thrask shifted uneasily and she watched as he stepped to her. “Yes. Why do you ask?” His voice was pitched lower.

“I feel like it was my fault for his punishment. He hadn’t seen me and...I was just wondering is all. I’ve heard stories about the Circle. Though I’m unsure if any of them are true.” Lena really hoped he hadn’t been made tranquil just for that.  

Thrask seemed to weigh something heavy and burdensome behind his eyes, while taking her in before he made a decision.  

“He is quite alright actually, if a bit - haggard.” Thrask explained as he led her toward a particular corner where one of the sewer manholes was opened. “Pardon the smell.”

“I’ve smelt worse.” Lena quipped back.

“Thekla.” Thrask called into the sewer and a moment later a head popped up. It was the mage from before. He was a bit dirty, but it was to be expected.

“Yes, ser?” The mage asked. His wrinkled brow furrowed and eyes wary as he looked to Lena and then back to Ser Thrask. His shoulders hunched and voice tired.

“The Madame here was just worried about your well being.” Thrask explained. That shocked the mage, but he looked at her fully then. He looked immensely familiar to Lena but there was something missing - something important.

“As you can see, he is no worse for wear.” Thrask said, though his voice tightened just a smidge. It was nearly undetectable but when you make a living from people watching and observing you notice things, subtle expressions and shifts - micro expressions.  Body language was telling and Thedosians just weren’t equipped or advanced enough to know how to hide it like Modern Earth folk could.

“I see.”  Lena said, unconvinced but she stepped to the mage and held her hand out. Thrask shifted in her periphery but she kept up. “I’m Madame Selena River. I feel I must apologize for whatever punishment you endured as you dropping those glasses was entirely my fault.”

Thekla stared at her hand, befuddled and looked to Thrask questioning if he could.

“I-... it. It was no fault of your own, Madame.” He spoke meek and unsure while wiping his hand to clasp her hand. “I wasn’t paying attention.” Thekla was an older mage. Lena could see the wrinkles around his eyes but not so much older that she considered him her elder. If anything, she’d blame the stress of the circle on his physical appearance of aging.

“And your name?” She asked, with innocent wide eyes.

Thekla sent a questioning look toward Thrask who nodded.

“Karl. Karl Thekla.”

Something screamed - snapping and sobbed in the back of her mind. She almost spoke the name that would make not only Karl but Ser Thrask suspicious of her. Refraining from reacting, she forced a smile.

“Well met, Karl. I’d hate to keep you from your duties. Have a good day.” And brutishly turned and walked toward a stall trying to keep her breathing in control. _Karl Thekla._ She’d met Karl Thekla before he becomes a tranquil. Anders’s first love, the reason why he repeatedly tried to escape the Ferelden Circle.

Her fingers clasped the pendant at her neck. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she couldn’t prevent that. The problem however was she didn’t know when he’d be made into a Tranquil.

“Madame?” Thrask had caught up with her. The sound of his jangling armor and swishing of his templar robes alerted her to his presence. “Is everything alright?”

With a heavy stare at Thrask, she opened her mouth - ready to ask so many questions about life in the Circle. They had accounts in the game, but she didn’t really know. Not really. The mage wardens had a rather pleasant experience but this wasn’t Kinloch Hold. This was Kirkwall.

“Yes. I just recognize his name from a friend from a long time. But I understand mages are stripped of their titles when they enter the circle. It wouldn’t be prudent of me to bring it up.” Lena swallowed once she finished lying. She didn’t know of Karl’s background, only of his association to Anders.

“Ah. Yes. That would be wise.” Thrask agreed as a tranquil came walking up with a book. “I shall leave you to your purchase.” Lena and Thrask nodded their goodbyes as he went back to his post.

“Messere. It is good to see you again.” The Tranquil, Tate spoke. If she had to guess it was with a lilt of enthusiasm as he hurriedly opened his book, eyes alight with curiosity but his face was expressionless.

“And you too.”

“I understand you wish to purchase similar runes of electricity as last time?”

“Right you are!”

“Excellent. Might I also trouble you with some questions?” He asked, cautiously.

“Question? About what?”

“Last you spoke, you brought up an interesting line of thought. Object sentience upon enchantment. I have been researching such a thing.” He spoke. “I thought I might ask if you had any more thoughts on such a thing.”

“Oh.” Lena squinted. What could it hurt? “Well to be honest it was more like a passing thought. What if each enchantment was a person that the enchanted wrought into being with the lyrium. Not life like me and you, but artificial?”

“Artificial?”

“Well, not really because you said the lyrium draws on the ambient magic, the fade around it. So it’d still be alive - organic.  So more like a dog or a cat. You might then have to teach it to be moral. So it’s a blank slate, a _tabula rasa_. Unless what you’re actually doing is bringing a lesser spirit or wisp from the fade, but that doesn’t make sense because dwarves have no access to the fade and they’ve been enchanting for ages.” She spoke whilst the mage went about creating the same runes as last time.

“Hmm.” He nodded.

“It’d be something to look into. But you’d need a mage, likely a spirit healer of some sort.”

“Thank you, Messere.”

“Madame.” She corrected. “Madame Selena. Or Lena if you prefer. And you are very welcome. Let me know how your research goes.” She purchased her runes.

“I shall.” Tate smiled and handed the small bag with a set of six runes. Lena tucked them into her pocket and quickly purchased some more copper wire and a few oranges from the Gallows’ docks and then headed back to Lowtown. She stopped in the Hanged man long enough to drop her purchases off and then headed up toward Hightown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things. I cut the chapter short here because it was getting reaaaallly long and I needed a bit of a break. Next chapter will be the Viscount's Keep interactions. Gotta continue that thread with Varric next chapter. Fun times are a foot.
> 
> P.S.: For those curious. This is the dress Lena is wearing without the hat and jacket of course.  
>   
> LonelyAgain helped me pick it.


	31. Badges of Infamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Badges of Infamy are typically hidden. Varric and Selena proudly display theirs with words and insinuations.

Hightown was all a bustle as Varric made his way through it, indeed most of Kirkwall was. Varric didn’t so much as bat an eye because he was in the know. Some noble was throwing a gala to honor the winners of last year’s Grand Tourney during the Kirkwall Tourney. The winners were on the second half of their year long tour. Everyone wanted a chance to meet the winners of the melee, jousting, and archery tourneys. And the winners almost always wanted to milk the fame - and coin - from every noble who would have them. Of course they promised mock fights and competitions with every noble across the Marches. Which meant everyone who was anybody in Kirkwall received an invitation regardless of race. Even Varric had received an invitation, but he was not to go. Though he was sure no one would miss him.

Because of the gala the Keep was a buzz and he was remiss to note the Seneschal had a line waiting to see. Even for those with weight and influence like him had to wait, much less those with the right amount of grease. He went to take a seat but a certain smith was also present.

Bianca Davri smiled from her perch, her hood drawn close as she flicked her gaze to a group of dwarva not far from where he sat. Varric didn’t need to look, he already knew they were there. Carta.

“Well.” His throat tensed as he eased into a seat not far from the smith but far enough from the Carta for deniability. “Looks like the gang’s all here.” He sent a half cocked grin at Bianca who shook her head incredulous at him. Perhaps not the best time to crack jokes but it wasn’t like he could say anything else. They were Carta in disguise as legitimate concerned dwarva citizens. He only knew them to even be Carta because he’d seen them when he visited Khirak all those weeks ago.

The Carta’s rising influence meant they wanted to make their presence known, not just in the Undercity but topside too. With each day that passed they made headway in the under city, claiming more territory. Unbeknownst to him, Varric had helped them by clearing out their rival gangs - all for information on a useless former Templar. The Carta was getting too big in Kirkwall to the point they were stepping on toes that should naught be stepped on. They’d be butting heads with the Merchant’s Guild soon enough and then Varric would have to get involved - again.

“The Viscount will be with you in a moment, messere. If you would just wait-”

“I cannot wait. The Viscount promised me a meeting.”

“Yes I understand, but the Viscount is a busy man as you can see. Many wish to see him.”

“These…” the man in question cast his wide gaze over those waiting. “...riff raff can wait. They are not _me_.”

“There is no preferential-”

“Serah!” The Seneschal’s office door opened. Seneschal Bran Cavin stepping out to glare at his assistant who was ushering away the Duke de Montford. “I can see you now, my lord.” Bran spoke with an apologetic tone even as a chorus of complaints rose around Varric.  Preferential treatment to human nobility was nothing new. Nonetheless he rolled his eyes as the Duke lifted his nose and pranced his lord arse into the Seneschal’s office.

“Damn humans.” Grumbled a Carta agent as they glowered after the Duke who skipped ahead of most of the line.

“Better get used to it.” Came the cringeworthy and familiar tones of Varric’s own head of House. His brother. Great just what he needed. Bianca, the Carta, and Bartrand all located in the same hall.  Varric tried to remain hidden but it was hard not to spot him. It didn’t take long for his older brother to notice him.

“Odd seeing you here, Varric.” Bartrand strolled over, speaking in an amicable manner. Varric knew better.

“Odd?” His fingers twitched toward Bianca at his back.

“Aren’t you worried there’d be an assassin behind a curtain?” Bartrand responded with a smug grin. He was of course referring to Varric being within a hundred leagues of Messere Davri. Should Bianca’s father find out, he’d get a heartwarming present from him in the guise of a knife at his throat again.

“Not as worried as you’ll be come your next gala.” Varric grinned. It was a faux-paux to not invite the rest of your House to your own social events and Varric was always invited. He never went - except that one time with Bianca where he near shot Bartrand. _Good times. He looked to the smith who grinned at the fond memory._

“Don’t you dare.” Bartrand whispered, leaning toward his younger sibling - fist clenched tight at his sides.

“Oh I don’t know. I’m feeling especially social. What do you say Messere?” Varric pitched the invitation to Bianca. But with a bark of laughter he knew she’d say no.

“From what I hear you’ve already got an escort.” Davri smiled.

He’d all but forgotten the two of them were as thick as thieves. Though why Bianca knew that… Was Lena talking about him to her? _Oh shit_. His ex and Lena talking about him - alone. And as often as they’ve met the past few weeks? That was not good, not on any level. Why was it only just now occurring to him?  

“I’m sure it’s coincidence Varric is here at the same time as me, Bartrand. No need to alert my father.” Bianca spoke in hushed tones to get Bartrand from sending a letter to her father, or from letting the gossip reach him.

“You know Varric, nothing is ever a coincidence.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Varric came back into the conversation.

Bartrand shrugged. “You’re a schemer. Everything you do has meaning and reason.”

“Psh. That’s not true.”

“What is it that you used to say? _I’m a writer, everything goes according to my plan._ ” Bartrand mocked his tone of voice with a nasal flair. Varric did _not_ sound like that.

“I’m more than well aware he’s sneaky, Bartrand.” Bianca agreed with a roll of her eyes, annoyed with the entire debacle.

“What?” Varric’s neck cricked sharp as he stared at her.

“But you're here because Lena sent you in her stead, right?” Bianca asked too quick to note Varric’s signals to not say her name.

“Lena?” Bartrand piped up, curious. “Who’s Lena?”

Varric groaned in the back of his throat. Great, just what he needed - Bartrand to know about Lena.

“You haven’t told him about your new-”

“Bianca, we should really have a talk in private.” Varric hurried out with his gaze flicking toward the Carta. They showed a suspicious lack of interest in their conversation. The Guild, however, did little to hide their own interest and hushed gossiping whispers.

“Varric?” Bartrand pressed.

“No one, just a new…” He clicked his tongue against his bottom teeth - a thinking habit he picked up from Selena. “...associate.”

“Apprentice of mine.” Bianca tried in the midst of Varric’s explanation.

“Apprentice?” Bartrand ignored Varric. “You have an apprentice?”

“She’s quite skilled, has a lot of potential.”

“Is that so? I haven’t heard anything about that in the Guild.” Bartrand caught the eye of Adelburt Ortan - a stout golden haired and bearded dwarf who held a seat on the Merchant’s Guild. Not quite as prolific as the Tethras, Dace, or Helmi seats. He’d been listening in. He was from an Ascendant House from the now long defunct House Ortan of Orzammar. Much of the House was made Casteless in Orzammar, or so Varric heard. It was no surprise large chunks of the House’s branches migrated upward to the surface in the last Age or so.

“Davri, what’s this I hear about you finding an apprentice?” Adelburt asked another dwarf trailing after him, one Varric recognized as a Kalnas dwarf by the name or Orlen Zigmun. They owned a slew of Mercenary Companies this side of the Minanter River - among other trades. To see a Kalna and an Ascendant interacting in public was odd.

“Yes unfortunately I have stringent standards on who I take on as an apprentice.” Bianca bluffed, though given the flash of pride in her eyes maybe it was true? “Heath is a skilled smith, but I need more than just a skilled smith, I need someone with potential beyond just smithing.” Bianca smiled. “But I can certainly recommend Heath to a fellow smith.” The two conversed potential smiths for Heath Ortan to apprentice under but Varric paid little attention.

He hadn’t considered Bianca would have taken Lena on as an apprentice. She was a bit old for that. Apprentices started early, as young as eight. Lena was - well he wasn’t sure how old she was. His brows knitted together. That’s one thing Denier hadn’t told him - or perhaps he didn’t know - her age or her birthday. He’d imagine she wouldn’t know her nameday, if Kal-Sharok even had those.

Would Bianca know; given how close they’ve gotten? He sent her an inquiring look whilst ignoring most of the conversation she and the Merchant Guild members were having. At least until she asked his brother something that sent his brows rising.

“You own a plantation in Rivain, correct?” Bianca queried. The business dealings had divulged toward matters of land and Bianca was taking the opportunity to get what she needed from House Tethras. “Father once told me it was a rather prolific purchase you made early on in your career.”

He wanted to snort. By prolific, he supposed she meant accidental. Suffice to say, Bartrand had gotten lucky by the skin of his teeth. Several human nobles had lost their estates and fortunes years back. Bartrand - ever the opportunist - snatched up the land holdings and deeds, using them later as trading. It was his first few trades that landed him with a plantation deed that upon visiting the plantation he realized he’d fucked up. The land ransacked, shacks abandoned, barns floored, and most of the crops trampled or destroyed by a recent storm and then further destroyed by a wildfire that was not contained quick enough. No one wanted the mess or the responsibility of the cleanup.

Bartrand had near wrung himself dry from the disaster. But with a few questions thrown toward Davri Senior - back when House Tethras had been in his good standing - and further investigation, the ground had been found to be rich and fertile from the burned underbrush. It took a hefty investment and finding the right agricultural circuit but Bartrand was in business. With a few hired farmers, a manor, new barn, and lodgings built Bartrand turned what could have been a coin sink into a steady flow of coins into the Tethras coffers.

“He said the place was a pile of nugshit and _you_ turned it into gold.” Bianca laid it on thick.

“Well almost anyone can profit from nugshit, but yes I suppose it was a good investment on my part.” He shrugged, unsure where Bianca was going.

“I’m in the market to lease a portion of a tropical plantation.”

“Is that so?” Bartrand squinted and side eyed Varric.

“You should let her use it. There’s no smith better to get into business with.” Varric tried to encourage his brother. That only increased his brother’s suspicions.

“I’m not currently leasing.” Bartrand grumbled. There was more to it than just that. Varric narrowed his gaze.

“Ah. Well, alright then.” Bianca frowned, a pleading glance sent his way. What could he do?  

“Would I honestly steer you wrong business wise? I mean this is Bianca Davri, if anything being in business with her might help you get a great deal on her seed drill.” He whispered to his brother harsh whilst gesturing to her but this did not change his brother’s stance nor lessen his suspicions.

Adeltburt took the opportunity of Bartrand’s hesitance. “My family has a plantation in eastern Tevinter that would suit your needs of a tropical plantation. We’ve more than enough grounds to lease a small section for your purposes.” The _for a price_ was implied. “What would you need it for, Messere?”

Bianca looked to Varric and Bartrand, before continuing. “It’d be to plant a special breed of tree. I would need to hire on mages to speed up the process and they’d need to be heavily guarded...” She trailed off as the two began discussing. Adeltburt no longer burned by Bianca’s dismissal of his son as an apprentice in lieu of a possible long term business contract and potential discount on Davri’s inventions.

“Seriously? It’s a good idea to go into business with Bianca. Why would you ignore me?” Varric squinted at Bartrand who gruffed and folded his arms. “Is it out of spite?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t trust your business sense for anything. You’re always throwing your coin around at every opportunity and all your problems.” Bartrand waved off Varric’s concerns. “And I’m always the one to bail you out of your troubles.”

“Ho ho! Says the dwarf who asked me to deal with his biggest problem that I live next-” Varric hissed the threat.

“Exactly. You spent money on that when you could have just sent the problem away. You spend frivolously with no thought to our future as a House and our legacy.”

“Legacy? What legacy? House Tethras is _exiled_. We’ll never be welcomed back to Orzammar despite your efforts.” Varric huffed. “Besides if you’re not going to spend the coin, what’s the use in working so hard to get it.”

“For our future!” Bartrand growled, the two now alone in privacy for the moment while Bianca, Adelburt and Orlen talked business. “Oh no sorry, you just want to live in the moment. Is that why you keep rebuffing Lady Helmi? I took great pains to arrange that after the whole…” He cast his gaze toward Bianca with a sneer. “Do you know how embarrassing it is that you tried to break her arrangement that’s been set since before she was born?”

Varric scoffed, turning away - moving to sit in another corner of the hall.  

“What’s the matter Varric?” Bartrand taunted as he followed after his little brother. “Can’t face growing up and your responsibilities?” Bartrand pushed. “You can’t throw money at me to get rid of me. I'm not one of your little friends.”

The insinuation burned. Varric grit his teeth and turned a nasty grin at his sibling. “Have you taken a glance in the looking glass, lately?” Varric turned a malicious glare at his elder brother. “How’d you think you made all those _friends_ you host galas for?” He posed the question. “You can’t honestly think they _like_ you? They’re just interested in your coin purse.”

“And you think your ‘friends’ were charmed by you?”

“Why not? Mother did say I was the charmer of the family.” Varric grinned a half smirk, teeth flashing.

“Oh it always comes back to that.” His older brother snapped.

“Comes back to what?”

“Mother always did like you best.” Bartrand grumbles with a disgusted noise.

“It’s not like I did anything special - oh wait I did. I was a decent son.” Varric spat.

“You were always her favorite and you know it! That's why you were _always_ at her side.”

“I was at her side because she was sick! And where were you?”

“I was doing father and our ancestors proud!”

“Oh piss off with that.” Varric rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad that Mother realized you were just a slimey little know it all-”

“Prick.” Interrupted Selena River behind him.

“Exactly.” Varric smiled but froze when it registered that Selena was there and he hadn’t even yet bought the building yet! _Shit._ The mild panic did not settle instead she distracted him by her attire.

“Varric, you’re a prick!” She growled.

“Couldn't have said it better myself.” Bartrand snapped up in agreement with Lena.

Her words didn’t register to Varric as he took in the full effect of her appearance in one of the fancier dresses he had gotten her. The skirt sat on her hips accentuating her womanly curves as it flowed down to the floor where he saw the tips of her boots peeking out. Boots that he knew had a short heel making her lower back curve as it primped her rump up to draw gazes - as if it wasn’t already. The pulled laces in the front pressed her bosom close and tight making her plunging cleavage drastic and mouth watering.  Her hair matched her noblewoman appearance despite its shorter length - to his dismay. It was swept up into a simple ponytail with curled strands framing her face and leaving her shoulders, collar, and neck on display - tantalizing.

Several dwarves, humans, and even elves looked her way. She had nothing to cover herself. The entire outfit made her appear like a proper lady and yet indecent in a courtly manner.

Varric was a perfect gentlemen in public but he’d never expect it of other men. Especially those that leered in an open manner, much like his brother, the Carta, several high ranking Merchants Guild seat holders who perked up at her appearance. The sway of her pronounced hips drawing their gazes and the sweet sultry tones of her voice with just a touch of anger sizzling beneath quieted all within the vicinity of her voice.  

She didn’t address Bartrand, which was all but a dismissal in court, but she did recognize him with one look and deemed him uninteresting for the moment.

“Why am _I_ the prick?” Varric blinked, unsure of where she was going. She stepped closer to him, lips stretched in a smile until it took a vicious glint, her teeth bared.

“Exactly. Who. Have. You. Been. Telling. That. I’m. Your. _WIFE_?!” With each word she prodded his chest, and not in a way he usually liked. Each prod sharp and hard, pushing him back until he bumped against the railing looking down to the vestibule. Several of the Carta, the Merchant’s Guild, and even human nobility took note of the exchange. Most with amusement but a few dangerous members looked on with intrigue and a little too much interest for Varric’s liking.

“Now, Selena.” Varric began in an attempt to placate her building rage. He’d never seen her angry before, not like this. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to soothe her rage. It was kinda hot. The edges of his lips twitched. “I have no idea what you’re-”

“Oh fuck you and your lies.” She seethed, gaze flicking to see the smart smirk spreading.

“When and where, love?” He grinned, letting slip the term of endearment by complete accident. Bartrand noticed, as did Orlen and Adelburt - _shit._

Lena took a sharp breath, nostrils flared and glowered at him with faint glowing eyes as she snapped her head back, affronted. In a move that was a second too late to be reflexive, she slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side as the red mark pulsed on his cheek warm. He soothed the skin while amusement tickled his throat.  

The Seneschal’s assistant peered over the railing down at them, curious of the commotion when things went quiet in a quick fashion.

“How _dare_ you.” She spoke in overdone offense.

“Varric!” Bartrand spoke up in her defense. “Mother didn’t raise us to speak to a lady like that!” The elder Tethras cut in. “I am deeply sorry for my _younger_ brother.” He slid, grin wide as he tried to push his brother out of his way. Lena, to Varric’s surprise and horror, _let him._ She even turned toward Bartrand with a raised brow.

“You’re apologizing for him?”

“Yes. My little brother can be exceptionally crass.”

“Oh, she likes it.” Varric spoke up. Lena narrowed her gaze at him.

“Certainly not, if she’s looking at you like that.” Bianca snorted from her perch, hiding her face behind a well placed hand.

“The lovely smith is correct.” Lena sniffed as she turned away from Varric, snubbing him. _Him_. Oh he’d get her back for that.

“I’m **Madame**.” She introduced herself to Bartrand, sending a pointed glare back at Varric. “Selena River. And you are?” Her hand held out - meaning to shake his hand. Bartrand had other ideas and laid a kiss on the back of it with the wet smack of his lips. Varric shivered in disgust.

“Bartrand Andvar Tethras. Head of House Tethras.”

“Ah. Kalnas and a merchant prince. I hear you’re quite _large_ in the social scene.” One single brow rose with emphasis.

“Right you are, my lady.” He placed his other meaty paw over her hand, not letting go as he stroked the back of her knuckles. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of House River.”

“Not surprising. The entire house and all its branches were exiled and erased from the Shaperate many years ago.” She shrugged.

“Oh?” Bartrand questioned. “And what caste was your House?”

“Artisan” Lena shrugged, nonchalant. “But I’m Ascendant. Orzammar traditions should be left where they are - beneath the surface.” She claimed. For an added kick to his groin she gestured to the statue of Andraste in a bowl of fire. “We left the stone and should embrace surface life. Like _Andrastianism_.”

Bartrand’s nostrils flared and he dropped her hand but he did not step away from her. “Well there is something to be said about keeping traditions, to know your heritage.”

“Oh certainly. Remember your heritage. But clinging to the past is what's stagnating and dwindling Orzammar’s population. We can’t be stuck in the past afterall.” Lena smiled, demure. “But, what do I know. I’m just a surfacer.”

Varric felt a swell of pride at her words. He had to admit, Selena knew how to play his brother. Even better than he did. _Odd._

“What exactly do you do?” Bartrand asked with thinly veiled civility.

“Personal development.” Lena offered. Bianca snickered, Varric smothered a bark of laughter, and Lena’s smirk grew. Bartrand’s brows knitted confused.

“Personal...development?” He questioned.

“Yes. I offer betterment services to aid both men and women.” She explained without so much as a bat of an eye.

“What kind of services?”

“Ah. That is between me and my clients, of which you are not. Though if you were you wouldn't recognize me as I am now as my clients only recognize me on my back or from behind.”

Bartrand let her words sink in before the flush of pink colored the tips of his ears. There was a halt in conversation around them as others put two and two together.

“Anyway, whose cock do I have to suck to get to the Seneschal’s office?” Lena proclaimed aggravated with a long suffering sigh.

There was a flurry of shocked gasps, from the Merchant’s Guild and human nobles. Varric’s mouth dropped open, speechless and with a wheeze as he forgot to breathe. Bianca snorted. The Carta had already been looking at her. Orlen and Adelburt’s brows pitched high, their lips disappearing into their beards at her brash words.

“You can suck mine.” Bartrand touted in an attempt to regain control of their rapport. He sent Varric a smug look.

Selena peered at the elder Tethras, tipping her chin d own in a look she’d given Varric time and time again. He imagined her spectacles perched low on the bridge of her nose to give him an incredulous look or mock disappointment at his antics. Selena gave Bartrand an overdone once over. She squinted her gaze as it lingered over his crotch and her lips pursed in thought.

“I’m not sure I could find it.”

A flurry of whispers, laughter, and snickering had Bartrand’s cheeks reddening. Once again the Seneschal’s assistant had to look down at the commotion.

Varric’s wheeze turned into a choking laugh, that had Lena huff and smack his back, offering her water skin once he calmed.

“Andraste’s ass, woman.”

“Madame _._ ” She corrected, still angry.

“You get mad at me for being crass and yet with him-”

“I return it in favor, because he’s not the one in the dog house.” Lena growled. “Telling people I’m your _wife_ when we’ve only just started fucking.” Gasps pervaded the air around them. “Honestly.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Hey, what people choose to believe is their own business.” Varric lifted his hands in surrender.

“Do you think I don’t know you’re the one peddling that rumor?” She seethed with a flair of anger. Her arm and hands flailed for emphasis and expression severe.

“I neither confirm nor deny anyone’s assumptions.” Varric smiled.  “Though I suppose it didn’t help when I said you were _my lady._ ” His smile stretched into a shit eating grin, eyes twinkling with triumph and mischief.

“You-” This time the anger was real, but it was subdued, more annoyed than anything. “Just like that and they-”  She sputtered she threw her hands up in aggravation. “UGH and… to you?!”

“What’s the matter?”

“How can anyone even assume I’m married?! I don’t even have a ring on my finger!” She spat.

“Ring?” Varric’s brows rose. Rings on the left forefinger were markers for the nobility of a married woman but commoners didn’t use that. The dwarva in Orzammar had similar traditions and most Andrastian folk as well - though usually it was a wooden carved ring and nothing quite so gallant or extravagant as a silver or gold ring. “You want a ring?”

“Ya darn right I do! I am a _single lady_ and if you liked me, then you should have put a ring on me!” Lena screeched now while wiggling her left hand out. She was the image of wild anger up until he caught her lips twitching - humored by something. He’d have to ask her later. The commotion of whispers rising as even a few commoner women were looking at their male companions smug. He could have sworn he heard “Why don’t _I_ have a ring?” from some of the married dwarva in the Guild. The cacophony of whispers grew a fevered pitch for a moment, before the Seneschal’s assistant barked for everyone to please remain quiet.

“Unless you expect me to get _you_ a ring. Of which I have a particular kind in mind.” Lena whispered in an aside to him whilst her gaze ventured down toward his trousers. Varric’s brain stopped working at the implication.

He didn’t get a chance to respond back however when her voice raised, affronted.

“And what’s worse, you didn’t even court me!”

“You want to be courted?”

“Of course she does! What lady doesn’t want to?”  Bartrand stepped up again. “Especially one of such beauty and intellect.” His brother flirted. Varric refrained from gagging.

“Aww, how sweet of you.” She smiled, tilting her head and pressing her palms together underneath her cheek. “I’m sure that’s the sort of courting you used on your _fiance_.”

Bartrand for a split second looked confused. Then he remembered he was engaged.

“How is Raella?” Varric reminded his brother, trying to untangle Lena from his attentions and to settle the commotion whilst encouraging disinterest in their affairs. Attracting scrutiny from the Guild even socially wasn’t good despite the hilarity.  He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it was time to settle it down.

“Fine.” Bartrand quipped quick and dismissive; his posture stiff as he pulled away from Lena and shook his head. “Why are you here anyway, Varric?”

“I have business to attend to.” Varric dodged any specific details so he didn’t draw Lena’s attention. He needn’t have worried because she was busy craning her neck to look toward the Seneschal’s office - lips pressed into a thin but pleased line.

The Seneschal and his assistant were bustling down the stairs. The assistant pointing at her in particular.

“Here comes trouble.” Bartrand and Varric muttered, the two exchanging glares. The elder Tethras dispersed from their side to rejoin the other Guild members in the Keep. In turn, Varric tried to appear nonchalant. Note, _tried._

“I should have known.” Seneschal Bran Cavin shook his head as he came to a stop in front of Selena and Varric.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Varric spoke. His words mirrored by Selena next to him. The two looked at each other surprised. Varric restrained himself from laughing as Selena squinted at him.

Bran looked between them. “Of that, I have my doubts. But you... _Madame_. I’ve had enough of you.”

“Oh lil ole me?” Selena grinned. “Perhaps Seneschal Cavin, you shouldn’t keep a lady waiting. Especially one of the night.” She stepped toward the Seneschal, slow deliberate. Her hips swayed and lips stretched wide as her voice softened. “You have a lovely set of eyes, Seneschal. I recall them from several months ago, swathed in a cloak and mask and besides a man of noted age in attendance to a most curious auction.”

Bran’s posture became rigid.  

“It’s a shame I can’t seem to recall the gentleman’s name. He had a particular likeness to a colleague of mine’s client. He left behind so many wonderful gifts for her.  Sometimes two, maybe three times a week. And once a month he would hire many of my colleague’s services for his employer.” Lena pondered with the gentle quiet tone, lips pursed but her eyes belied nothing and her face was smooth. “What _was_ his name…”

Only those nearby heard the gulp from the Seneschal.

“You had an appointment, Madame?”

“Oh yes.” As though she had forgotten. “I did.” Lena leveled a blank unblinking expectant stare at the Senechal. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Varric shivered - unnerved by the shift in her mannerisms from crass and angry to sweet and indifferent. It was quick, seamless as her words’ and meaning transformed with her voice and body.  

“My apologies, Madame.” Bran added as he clasped his hands behind his back and gave an apologetic bow. “I have an opening right now, if you would just follow me.”

“It will do.” Lena moved ahead of him, leading and not looking back. The Seneschal quick to follow her as she led the way back to his office.

Varric gaped at Lena’s retreating form.

“She’s certainly something.” Bianca quipped with a nudge as she strode forward after them, joining the Seneschal and Lena.

 _Shit._ How had she done that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the LONG delay for this chapter. Second week of November I got sick with pink eye, the viral kind. It knocked me out for two weeks and stole my vision for a whole week. I can see now, thankfully, and am still on medicine but I've developed a nasty cough. Regardless, I am on the road to recovery! Updates SHOULD resume normally now. But if this cough doesn't get better and instead turns into what I really hope it's not, there may be another delay. 
> 
> Anyway Hope you guys like the chapter! I had a sick delight in writing it. And I had help editing it with the [Hemingwayapp](http://www.hemingwayapp.com/). It's a really handy tool and I thought I'd share for all my fellow writers who read!


	32. Hard Bargains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard Bargains are a foot, but you have to know how to play your words right or you can't get what you want. A lesson Lena needs to learn.

Bianca and Lena entered the Seneschal’s office ahead of the waiting line thanks to Lena’s machinations. The best way to get ahead of any line is to cause enough of a scene to draw attention from those in charge. Not enough to cause a ruckus as that would have gotten them kicked out but enough of a scandal to get tongues wagging. It worked much better than expected. They were keeping her midday appointment with the Seneschal, even if it was a few minutes late. Bianca and her had a lot of things to go over with the Seneschal. Leases, contracts, permissions, forms, and sanctions be granted to allow their operations to go forward.

With the Seneschal’s back still turned, Lena took that moment to loosen the laces and re did them a touch tighter to make her bosom pop up a bit more. It couldn’t hurt - could it? She wet and bit her lips, reddening them. She wanted to appear appealing but not like a painted lady.

Bianca had watched the entire exchange with amusement. “I can see why Varric likes you.”

“There’s a lot of reasons why he likes me.” Lena smirked with an eyebrow raise.

“Hmm.” Davri smiled. “But what I don’t understand is why you like him.”

Lena opened her mouth. There’s a lot of reasons why. She was predisposed to like him because she played the games and “met” him through them. Yet he wasn’t like the character she had fawned over. There were similarities but he was someone else, someone more than the caricature he was presented as in the game. Getting to know him in real life had been exciting, and she had a lot more to learn about him. There was so much more depth to him.  She had figured he was a bit of a horndog in private.  All those flirtatious lines with FemHawke, Isabela, and even the Inquisitor. It was just too specific to _not_ mean something more, or at least speak of experience.  So she definitely liked him.  He was funnier than he'd been in the games and far more flirtatious.  Her lips twitched. But she couldn’t say any of that so she pitched an eyebrow and smirked. “I thought you would know why.  He is quite skilled in the _oratory_ arts.”

Bianca’s lips cracked and giggled quick but kept her laughter from going further as Bran sat at his desk.

“Now, how can I help you ladies.” Bran’s reddish brown eyes skipped over Bianca and went straight to Lena. They flicked first to her on display bosom and then back up to her face. The recognition evident and powerful in his leer but he kept that to himself. While he recognized her and her occupation, she just as well recognized him and his employer’s presence in the Rose. So he kept silent, but his gaze lingered.

Lena could feel Bianca tense next to her but she gave Bran a pleasant smile.

“We have several articles for you, Seneschal.” Bianca began and set the papers on the desk. Lena pulled out her own papers as well from the book attached to her hip and set them down.

“A permit to tap into waterline in the lower east end of the Foundry District to connect a pipe? To what purpose?” Seneschal asked as he signed the documents.

“A new invention requires it's own water source.”

“Can you not take from the local well?”

“It requires specific Tevinter pressure standards. I’ve already contacted the plumbers guild in Vyrantium to forward me the blueprints of Kirkwall’s system. Nonetheless I still need to set up a separate pipe from the water mainline to the foundry, with an appropriate gauge in a publicly accessible spot, a meter ” Bianca began to explain but Bran held his hand up, pausing her explanation

“Please ensure there are no explosions. I know what your mechanical machinations can do, Davri.” Bran sighed and flipped through the other parchments Bianca had brought. “You wish for a permit to enter the sewers? I assume it has to do with the other?”

“Can't very well install a new line without access to the sewer, can we?” Lena smiled.

Bran rolled his eyes but signed it. “Approved.”  He lifted one of the candle, dribbled melted wax onto the documents. Then he used the Viscount’s insignia to give the parchments a seal with a ring. Once the wax dried, Bianca grabbed the pages and smiled.

“Pleasure as always, Seneschal.” Bianca slipped back. “Lena.” She waved, leaving her alone with the Seneschal.

“And what can I do for you?”

Lena pulled a stack of forms she had taken great lengths to write according to the specifics she needed whilst reproducing the forms Bianca had shown her. She was purchasing a workshop, registering her business with the city, getting the Nightmen’s contract, and petitioning the Kirkwall Assembly. All forms which she had to written out by hand with a quill. Her penmanship wasn’t exactly the best but it was legible at the very least. She knew how to use fountain pens but _quills_ were another matter entirely. She was saving her ballpoint pens for dire situations as she only had so much ink in them. She missed her computer.  What she wouldn’t give for at least a typewriter. Her wrists and finger joints had left her in tears afterward reminding her of her carpal tunnel. She’d need to get herself a scribe if she were to have to do a lot more writing, but for now she could handle it.  

Most of the forms were straightforward and would just require the Seneschal’s approval. However, petitioning the Kirkwall Assembly, which was comprised of all the nobility Kirkwall, was no easy task. It was a process and this was the first step.  

“And these are…” Bran grabbed the stack and sifted through each, looking up at Lena.

“A registration for my business _River & Company _.” Lena explained, knowing the order they were in. Bran flicked past it after one glance. She furrowed her brows but continued, assuming he wanted to view them all first.  “That one is a purchase order for a property on the lower east side of the Docks, lot thir-” She wasn’t even finished when Bran also flicked through it. “Lot thirty-seven. That one is a request to take over the Nightman’s-” He flicked past it and then dropped the entire stack in favor of the last one.  

“What is this?” Bran held up her fourth parchment, interrupting her. “A petition? You wish to petition the Kirkwall Assembly? _You._ ”

The way he pronounced the pronoun and looked her up and down made her the back of her teeth grit, but she smiled and blinked with rapt attention. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

The Seneschal looked between her and the papers before sighing, His fingers rubbed his temples, and then his lips spread into a grin.

 

* * *

 

Varric twirled a spare bolt between his fingers, impatient as he lingered by the Seneschal’s door. There would be no point in him waiting to speak with Bran now. What he was about to buy was going to be walking out that door any second now, in Lena’s possession. He had to admit, how she got ahead of everyone was crafty - if dangerous. Hanging the Seneschal’s midnight activities over his head - not the smartest move for a beginner like her.  He’ll have to teach Lena how to play Wicked Grace a bit better.

Bianca walked out a few moments after they had disappeared into the office - _without_ Lena. She smiled at him. He didn’t respond but tracked her steps as she left the Keep. Perhaps his gaze lingered on Bianca hips. He knew their shape all too well, even with the layers she wore. A soft hum of appreciation rumbled in his throat before he tore his gaze away when the door beside him opened.

Selena strode out with a fire in her eyes and her shoulders squared. Gripped at her side was her small stack of papers, where he saw no seal of approval on any of them. Lena growled as she stuffed the papers into her bag. With fierce stomping steps she turned away and left the Keep. He meant to go after her, but he didn’t think she’d leave the office angry. If anything, her leaving as livid as she looked raised questions.

He wondered...

Before anyone else could enter, he slipped into the Seneschal’s office and closed the doors.

“Caldor, please send in the Duchess-” Bran paused as he spied Varric strolling to his desk. “Varric Tethras. What do _you_ want?”

“Bran Cavin. My old friend.”

“Oh, we’re alone Varric, do drop the charade.” Bran sighed. “Out with it.”

“Well, the little lady in here before me...” Varric began.

“Yes. _Madame_ Selena. One of yours, I assume?” Bran quirked a single eyebrow like he had figured out a particularly vexing problem.

“Her? No no.” He waved off the notion with a chuckle. “I couldn’t get her to be one of mine if I tried. Have you seen her technique? She’s terrible.” Varric laughed.

“She was rather…” Bran leaned back in his chair. “..blunt, if surprising.”

“Reveals her cards too quick, too. Right?” Varric leant against the desk.

Bran smirked. “So what do you need? I know you did not venture all the way here, cause trouble with your trollop, and then skip the queue just to chat.”  

Varric rubbed the tip of his nose. “Well, I’m just wondering if she came to make a purchase.”

“She did.”

“On the southeast end of the docks. Lot uh...thirty…” Varric trailed off in thought.

“Thirty-seven.” Bran provided with a squint. “Yes, she wanted to buy it. I cannot imagine why. The lot is in severe disrepair. Infested with pests, and is prone to the riffraff of Darktown taking up residence. Though I imagine she’s used to such…companions.”

 _Wanted?_ “So she didn’t acquire it?”

“Oh she tried. I wouldn’t have sold her the dirt on the end of my heel.”

“Oh?” Varric was curious.

“Her speech was overly familiar; her form ridiculous; her penmanship atrocious. I shan’t have such an unseemly _thing_ cluttering up the Viscount’s desk for approval.” Bran explained with a sneer. He released a laugh shortly after. “The gall for a _prostitute_ to come into the Keep and demand my presence. She’s lucky I didn’t have the guard arrest her.”

He felt the bile rise in the back of his throat, the skin on the back of his head warming in shame as he uttered the next few words.  “You should have, would have saved me the trouble.”

Bran chuckled. “Well, I was feeling rather lenient.”

Varric refrained from cracking his knuckles. “She should remember her place is on her knees.” Varric grinned. “Or her back.”

Bran snorted. “She should stare at the ceiling, not reach for the skies.”

“So perhaps to keep the little slut in her place, we can come to an agreement?” Varric dropped a small purse of coins on the desk.

Bran looked down at it and peered back at Varric with a slow grin. “Why, Master Tethras. Are you trying to _bribe_ an officer of the court?”

“Me?” Varric touched his chest with mock offence. “Wouldn’t think of it. I’m just a businessman, making a purchase.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Lot thirty-seven.”

The Seneschal lifted a stack of parchments and slid the purse into a desk drawer where he pulled a blank order form. “Let me get that deed for you, Messere.”

 

* * *

 

“The nerve...of that… that bastard!” Lena fumed as her steps thundered against the smooth pavestones of Hightown. Her knuckles white as she fisted her skirts up allowing her to make her way down the steps. She took a moment to breath in and descended down to Lowtown. She didn’t even get a reason for why the Seneschal had denied each of her proposals. Not even when she tried to pull telling people of his and his employer’s proclivities. He’d just rolled his eyes and dismissed her telling her that trick was good for one use only. Unless she wanted to use her _other_ tricks of the flesh to get him to approve her purchases.

Cheeks red, she huffed at the bottom of the stairs and looked around. Lena took a calming breath. So her early afternoon was a bust, she didn’t register her business, or get the lot, or even the petition. She wasn’t going to stop trying.

Either way she had other things to do today. She headed for the docks. There were a few trade ships that would be leaving port tomorrow and one of them would be stopping in Highever and another in Denerim. That’s Ferelden. She had a message to send overseas with a bit of urgency. Once in Ferelden a messenger rider would take it down toward Lothering. With any luck, Malcolm hadn’t died. Otherwise - well she might end up with a couple of Hawks looking for some answers in a few years time. She’d considered what would happen if the letter was received by one of the Hawke children and it was worth it.

Swinging by the nearest Tavern, she needed a good stiff drink after the ordeal with the Seneschal and she could find a Captain there.

The _Come On Inn_ was an Inn with a bar on the first floor and two floors on top filled with temporary lodgings for sailors and merchants in port. She spied the sea weary sailors drinking. Many of whom sent her interested looks, lingering a little too long for comfort.  Had she not gotten used to such looks in the Rose, she would have sent them glares and lifted her nose. Instead she rolled her eyes and marched right to the bar, whilst slapping a silver coin down.

“What’ll’ya’ave.” The barkeep was a portly human with a glass eye. He didn’t send her a second glass.

“How much ale can that get me?” She asked.

“Enou’to’mak’it’ dangerous fer’ya, lass.” He slurred.

“I’ll take it.” She shrugged and the barkeep served her a pint, which she chugged down in quick order. The barkeep watched while pouring her another and switching out the goblet when she slammed it down. With no one to impress or anyone to pretend for, she let out a loud throat belch. “Fuck nobles.” She added with a wipe of her mouth.

“‘Ere ere.” came a chorus of groans of those closest to her.

“But also…” Lena thought of Sebastian and how Varric would have been noble, in Orzammar. “ _Fuck_ nobles.” She downed the next the goblet.

There were snickers each time she got a new goblet and let out a belch.

“Worse thing about nobles, is how they don’t even think about those down below.” Lena grumbled as she cradled her goblet, no longer chugging the things. She was taking her time now. She had a plate of bread as well.

“Is this a dwarf thing?”

“No no. Not just a dwarf thing.” She belched with such volume it was barring on obscene. There was laughter in the Inn, even as the occasional sailor slipped upstairs with a less than desirable woman or man on their arm. “I’m talking bout those in Lowtown, or fuck Darktown!” She gripped, leaning back in the stool. She drank some more, feeling a touch buzzed.  “Fuck em for every bit they are worth and toss em in the gutter.” Lena shouted.

She was too loud for some of the late risers near her who vacated her side, even though she was sharing the wealth and letting some of her drinks go to them. But they shied away and the empty spot beside her became occupied without so much as a blink. Lena hadn’t even heard the booted footsteps, but she did smell them. It wasn’t unpleasant but it wafted up over the stench of the Inn. Salty, like the ocean and with a spicy flavor that panged at Lena’s heart. It reminded her of her mother’s home cooking.

“What noble screwed you over?” Came a sultry tone beside her. That’s when Lena looked over flummoxed.  Her jaw dropped down and she sputtered her drink, it dribbled down her chin and onto her skirts.

“Bella!” Lena spouted when she faced the woman at her side. The cleavage, the shirt, the exposed upper thighs with the rest covered by her mid thigh boots. Lena slapped a hand over her mouth at her slip up. Surprised and shocked to see the future Admiral of the Felicisima Armada right there in Kirkwall, sevea years before she’s supposed to meet Hawke, Lena floundered for words.  

“Have we met?” The future pirate queen propped her elbow on the bar.

“Not yet, but I’d like to.” Lena could not help herself. “At length.”

Isabela gave a throaty laugh. “Oooh, you’re quite the charmer.”

“I’ve got quite the wit, as well.” Lena giggled.

“Wit?” Isabela tilted her hair.

“You know…” Lena waved her hand in the air and snickered. “Because it’s my tongue that’s quick witted.” She couldn’t keep a straight face while saying it and staring at Isabela, the wide cheeky grin throwing her off. She burst into girlish giggles once she did say it.

“Ooh, you almost had it too.” Isabela sighed with disappointment. “Sweet little guppies like you, shouldn’t be flirting with sharks like me.”  

“Sweet?” Lena guffawed and tossed her head back and laughed. “I’m _sweet_! How would you know? You haven’t even tasted me yet!”

A cacophony of chuckles, amused coughs, and choking surrounded them. Even Isabela grinned, head tilted with confusion.  One moment Lena was suave and the next she was floundering. She took another gulp of ale, but kept a close eye on Isabela.  She was aware how nimble those fingers could be, and not in the pleasant way, though in that way too.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having a taste.” Isabela cooed. “How much for the night?”

Lena choked on the ale, it came out of her nose and sprayed. Isabela was quick to hold out a handkerchief.  Lena dabbed at her face and chin.  “Thanks.”  She muttered and shook her head, “Here I thought I looked more like a slut than a prostitute.”  

“And you do, but it’s the way you hold yourself that gives the game up.” Isabela tutted, sliding an arm over her shoulder. “I can teach you, if you want. It’ll extensive training over several nights.”

“Hold on. I’m not even sure you can _afford_ me.” Lena let herself be led out. “I have a unique skill set. Ones that I’m sure only Orlesians and Qunari would be familiar with.” The Pirate Captain led them toward a ship on the docks. Lena caught the words _Siren’s Call_ emblazoned in rusted metal on the side.  

“Now you’re just making me curious.” Isabela purred.

“You’ll be more than curious by the end of the night.” She grinned, making to step on the ship.

“So what do I call you?”

“Oh, Bella, you can call me whatever you want. But if you must know, It’s Madame-”

“Lena!”

She jerked back at the familiar voice with Isabela looking back at her

“Donnic?!” Lena called. The guardsman huffed, his forehead dotted with sweat as if he’d run quite a distance. He approached them, platemail heavy and clanging.

“You have to come.”

“Oh she will, once I’m through with her. Probably more than once.” Isabela added and smirked at his response. Lena didn’t think it was possible for Donnic to get even more red faced but his cheeks and ears burned bright.

“What is it?”

“It’s about Happy.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I was making my rounds in Lowtown.  I asked for the route ever since you told me about the elves.” Donnic explained as he led the way toward the Alienage. “That pet of yours has been very helpful.  Usually if anyone’s been causing trouble he-”

“She.” Lena corrected.

“She will web them, string them up for me to find and I’ll usually arrest them.”

“Nice to know we’ve got our very own Spiderman.” Lena muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing, you were saying?”

“Right, well this last week…” Donnic trailed off as they turned into the Alienage. Lena froze as they looked up into the tree. A dozen bodies, wrapped up tight in spider silk and and hanging in the Vhenadahl like Christmas tree ornaments. Happy was nowhere, with no shadow or trace of her.

“There’s no way Happy did all this. Not on her own…” Lena frowned.

“That’s something you don’t see everyday.” Isabela had followed after them, intrigued by the association between a prostitute like Lena with a Guardsman.  She’d have guessed something a tad less exciting, but she was very pleased she had followed.

“Tell me about it.” Lena huffed, tracking the roofs to find her spider’s usual haunt.  Usually somewhere dark and warm that provided cover from the elements.

“So this pet of yours. She’s a-”

“Giant spider. About the size of a mabari.” Lena explained and walked down a staircase toward the section of Darktown below the Alienage. “Probably bigger actually.”

“Right...and you _like_ spiders?”

“Yes.” Lena smiled. “And no.”

“Huh.” Donnic queried.

“The small ones are too hard to track.  The bigger ones like Dopey and Happy however, they’re just like large cats.” She blinked. “Almost... _exactly_ like cats. Shit.”

“What?”

“Cats are like people.  They kill for _fun_. If Happy is bored then he’s killing for fun, hence the tree ornaments.” Lena groaned. It made sense!  The purring, the rubbing, and their demeanor. They were just very large eight legged cats!

“Or…” Donnic stopped her. “There’s more than one spider now.”

“What?” Lena looked where he pointed.  The large exo-skeleton of a tarantula like spider was crumbling under its weight. Dried and massive, big enough to _ride._ “Fuck.”

“I’ll get more guards.” Donnic said.

“No no.  Don’t do that!” Lena turned to him.

“Why not? Your spider wasn’t this big last I checked and that- _that_ belongs to a-”

“Doc.” Lena cringed.

“Doc?” Donnic asked. “Don’t tell me.”

“Another one of mine.” Lena added with guilt. Donnic paced back and forth, muttering about the trouble he was in. “Look, calm down, Donnic.  Donnic!” He didn’t listen to her but fisted his hair and swore.

“Are you their spider queen?” Isabela asked amazed at the turn of events. She sheathed her daggers.

“Of a sorts?” Lena rubbed the back of her head. “Maybe? Not sure. I sort of befriended them and they… protect me.”

“Well, your pets are causing a pile up. I can turn a blind eye to a few drudgery being taken care of but those...I can’t keep it quiet. Not for long.” Donnic crossed his arms, glaring and pouting.

“He’s right. Someone will miss them, and notice them. If they haven’t already.” Isabela added.

“Shit.” She sighed. “Alright, we just need to hide them.” Lena tracked back up the stairs.

“Hide them?!” Donnic near shouted but lowered his voice.

“Shh. Wake the whole Alienage why don’t you?!” Isabela shushed and swatted at the guardsman who sent her a glare in turn.

“It’s just until I can take care of it.”

“Exactly how are you going to take care of these bodies? Tethras can’t get you out of this.   _I_ can barely get myself out of this.”

“Well…” Lena trailed off as she counted the bodies, took in their apparent shape. “I’m just going to have to make a _lot_ of soap.” Lena added as a joke, fully expecting neither of them to get it.  Isabela started, eyes wide in shock. Donnic, however, looked at her in confusion.

“What?” Donnic asked, combing his hair back in stress.

“Nothing, just, help me bring them down. We need to transport them.”

“Where in Kirkwall would we even be able to hide them? Even Darktown would notice.”

Where could she hide them? It wasn’t like she had a shop, or knew where the pyres were. There was of course the route she took with Sebastian but that was another matter. No one would notice the dead sister in the dried up well in Hightown. If they did, she’d be beyond recognition.

“Twelve bodies…” She murmured thinking. How quick could she cut them up? Lena looked at the night sky. Too long to do it now that was for sure. She only wished the Seneschal had sold her-

Her lips stretched wide.

“I know a place.” She added.

No one was using the place, it’d been empty for years given the man had sold it off to pay for his debts. So what if she stored a few bodies there.  It was just temporary and she _knew_ there was an entrance in Darktown. She hoped whatever slavers you encountered in game, weren’t there now. Now it was just the matter of the lock.  

“How good of a lockpick are you?”

 

* * *

 

It was well past midnight when a thunderous knocking woke Varric from his slumber. He shot out of the bed, scrambling to make himself decent. He hadn’t intended on falling asleep when he’d arrived but well, he’d gotten used to Lena’s later nights and climbed into bed. He’d fully expected her to crawl in next to him sometime before midnight but she hadn’t.  Was this her? She had a key.

He opened the door whilst bare chested. His loose trousers tied with clumsy haste had them hanging off his hips far too low to be appropriate. His robe half way pulled on. He didn’t care much about his appearance because he paused upon seeing a half-inebriated Lena in the arms of a strange woman with ample bosoms. He noticed those first only because Lena had her hands full of them

“I believe, she is yours?” The strange woman spoke with a grin as Lena let go of the woman’s breasts and then touched hers.

“You know, I think we’re the same cup size.” Lena slurred.

“Cup size?” Isabela and Varric mirrored their question.

“Ah piss you guys don’t have that.” Lena grunted. “Sodding breast bands are shite.” She mumbled and brushed past Varric into the room. “Isabela, meet Varric.  Varric meet Isabela.”  She waved behind her as she darted into Varric’s bed chamber. “ONE SEC, taking a piss!”

Varric blinked, unsure of what happened.

Isabela waltzed in, making herself at home as she plopped into _his_ chair.

“So...Varric Tethras. I hear you’re _quite_ the storyteller.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delayed again! Drat. I ended up - as I thought - sick again thanks to that nasty cough. thankfully not for weeks like the pink eye. But I'm still on the mend but I've got designs for the specifics for next few chapters already. Big things are brewing - BIG THINGS. 
> 
> I had some lovely help with the dialogue of this chapter from my friend LonelyAgain.


	33. Port Voyeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voyeurism and cuckolding. Which did Varric and Lena partake in? FIND OUT THIS CHAPTER!

“With no new leads, the detectives assigned are putting the case aside. The family have reached out to the station that they will be continuing their search. If you’ve seen anything about the disappearance of twenty-seven year old Selena River, contact the family.” Daerin shut the small CRT television off he kept behind the counter - satisfied with the news. It would mean his grandfather could come back from hiding.

Every few years it was the same, and every few years the technology got harder and harder to dodge and hide from. Authorities, police, the CIA, even Homeland Security were such a nuisance, tirelessly trying to explain them. He remembered the one time they almost got them in Budapest. Stubborn of them to not give up the chase, especially when they disappeared.

If there was one thing you could count on, it's the Dwarva’s stubbornness and their ingenuity of course, no matter the universe. But with that ingenuity comes a great unwillingness to give up their pursuits and inklings at least so long as it held their attention.

Flipping the sign for the storefront, Daerin pulled the shutters down. The Antiquarian was an old establishment dating farther back than what they advertised. Daerin remembered when it was a traveling bookmobile both as an automotive and horsedrawn.

His grandfather working to find just the right people. It was hard nowadays. Their targets had polluted their lineage. Yet they found a way, they always did. They had less intrusive ways with websites like AncestralLineage.com where people could trace their family line. It was all publicly available information about their genealogy. At least it made Daerin’s work easier. His grandfather never got quite with the times. It always takes him at least half a century to catch up.

Daerin shook his head. He should be sending word to his grandfather but he wanted to check on their latest acquisition. Her engagements were quite the tale. Turning off the lights of the main floor, he stepped down into the basement. Shelves of books with vastly different spines and covers but all named the same _Age of Dragons_ filled them.

But those were all failed ones. Either the poor dears died far too quick or they landed too far off to where Rahmi needed them. Their tales weren't quite so interesting as they spent weeks - months as slaves, chefs, the occasional smith and all of them dwarva.

This world was full of them. Unlike the world they sent them, dwarva were the dominating species. With a naturally occurring veil they did not suffer the consequences that dwarva of Thedas did. Their connection to their ancestral deities were not wrenched from them. Instead, they thrived, multiplied, lifting their earthly deities beyond godhood.

The bookstand in the center of the room held three tomes with that same title of _Age of Dragons_. But only one of them was open to where Daerin had last read up until. Last he read, Lena had been interacting with the Coterie branches and earning their ire and trust. She was meticulous in her bookkeeping and insistent they use her “River Method” number system.

While it wasn’t exactly the change to Thedosian society his grandfather had wanted, it was very different to what the others had managed to accomplish before their efforts lulling and they lapsed into complacency. Lena on the other hand, did not appear to be lapsing that way. She wanted better, even if her intentions were on a vague idea of being able to come back.

He found his last spot and began reading.

 

* * *

 

Varric wanted to ask, he did but it was late. He had a strange - what looked like - scantily clad pirate in his room, in _his_ chair, and his very inebriated girlfriend was relieving herself with a series of moans and exclamations of “Oh fuck that feels good. Damn how much ale did I drink?!”

He didn’t want to know so he poured his guest and himself a drink.

“Your missus has some loose lips when she has a pint or six in her.” Isabela offered to his confused expression.

“Loose lips, is an understatement.” Varric smiled. Well, nice to know Lena thought of him while drinking. Though in what context was worrisome.

“I bet she has even looser skirts.” Isabela teased, accepting the offered drink.

Varric grinned. “I don’t want to boast.” He sipped his own watered down ale.

“She did invite me here to _share_ so boast away.”

Choking, he gaped. “Share?” With a nervous chuckle he checked the door to his bed chambers. “Selena!”

“Yeah, gimme a sec. Ugh…” Lena groaned in complaint.

“What’s the matter guppy?” Isabela cooed.

“Nothing a good stretch won’t fix.” Lena smiled as she stepped toward the bowl of water where she washed her hands with the soap she kept next to it.  There was also a strip of cloth there they used to dry their hands. She had badgered Varric to wash his hands after every time he relieved himself and before eating. It was a ritual she insisted on. When asked why, she responded that it was for “cleanliness” and “hygiene.”

_You wouldn’t want dirt or shit in your food would you? Wash your hands, Varric. I mean it._

Isabela watched with a questioning look as Selena spread the soap all over her hands and wrists, but her attention shifted to her drink and the room. Varric stepped to Selena, whilst keeping a close eye on Isabela, not comfortable with how calculating her gaze was.

“Lena, why is she here?” He whispered as he grabbed the water bowl so she could continue to scrub her hands. She had this whole ritual of scrubbing her palms, and then picking beneath her fingernails to clean them of the gunk, rinsing and then soaping again. It sounded like a long process but she did it quick. He poured the water for her.

“I figured you could use a treat.” Lena giggled.

“Why am I being treated?”

“For what you did at the Keep.”

Varric’s stomach twisted, guilty. “Pardon?”

“You know, helping me cause a ruckus. Though, it got me nowhere. Damn Bran is a stingy bastard.” She sighed. “Still don’t understand why he said no.” Her adorable pout had him licking his lips. He peeked at Isabela to ensure she hadn’t moved.

“You’re _rewarding_ me for getting you into see Bran.”

“Mhmm.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it but what would I even do with two women?” He smiled.

“Pfft. You know well and good what to do with two women. Don’t pretend like you haven’t screwed those twin sisters next door.” Lena snorted.  “At the same time.” She added when his mouth opened.

“Oooh. Twins?” Bela smiled. “And sisters? Well obviously.”

“Not _just_ the familial kind.” Lena clarified whilst waggling her brows.

“I always knew those cloistered sisters had to have a little bit of a wild side. But family as well?” Bela looked toward the door, appearing to consider visiting said twins. But she thought against it and looked Varric up and down with a lasciviousness that had his cock throb to life. “I guess I won’t have to teach him a thing.”

“Ha. There isn’t much you have to teach him. He has had many turns in the hay, in so many ways.”

“Don’t boast. You might just raise my expectations.” Isabela quipped.

“Fair point. Though the only thing we need to raise is his cock. Then all you’ve got to do is lay back and let his tongue do the work.”

“She’s drunk. It wouldn’t be right.” Varric spoke over Lena.

“Not as drunk as you’d think.” Both women sing sang. Lena gave a girlish giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Isabela released a throaty laugh and rose.

“Shall we get started?” Isabela

“I haven’t consented to this!” Varric stepped back from both women, looking between them. He had to admit having his girlfriend and a scantily clad pirate, it was the stuff of fantasies that’d make even the folk of Darktown shell out a silver or two for the next installment to his newest serial. He could write a chapter about this.

Isabela inched closer to him on his other side, both women hemming him in. Her bosoms drew his attentions toward her plunging cleavage, the way her necklace, clasped around her neck jingled and slid across her skin, tantalizing. He could just imagine her bosoms pressed against Lena’s, the sharp contrast between the two exciting him. Isabela’s movements were subtle and sensual but Lena’s were sexually charged. They were a combination that produced a low whine in the back of his throat. He coughed.

“Not that I’m opposed…” Varric gave a silent thank you toward the Maker for his girlfriend’s occupation.

“Good.” Lena breathed against his cheek, trailing kisses up to his ear. “Follow my lead.” She whispered instructions and pulled away. Yet instead of the sweet sexy woman he knew, her expression hardened. Her shoulders stiff and back straight.

“He likes it when we run our fingers through his chesthair.” Lena offered, stepping back. Varric’s brows rose high at her shift in demeanor.  Isabela bent low enough to scratch his chest.  

“Like this?”

“Softer. Doesn’t running your fingers through it just make you quiver?” Lena spoke. Her fingers clasped her belt, untying the items at her belt. She hefted the book Varric knew contained her papers from the Keep and she dropped it into one of the drawers he had emptied for her. His gaze met hers as she dropped the rest of her effects in there.  

He should have been paying attention to Isabela who leant against him now, whispering eyebrow raising things but his gaze locked on Lena. She slid her possessions into the drawer where each thud twisted his stomach into sinking knots.

She put her things away.

“Lena.” Varric’s voice cracked low.

“Hush, just enjoy it. Bela, he’s particularly sensitive just below his jaw.” Lena suggested, and Isabela took it. Her teeth and lips working on one of Lena’s favorite spots to tease while they laid in bed before he woke.

Isabela’s tongue and touch spurred the rising in his loose bed trousers. He checked with Lena, feeling the guilt burn. He may as well enjoy this before he angered her with the truth of his actions. Plus, it wasn’t _his_ fault Isabela was distracting. Her tongue teasing his lips.  Once again he checked with Lena who nodded, a dark swirling lust in her gaze as she watched.

 _So she likes to watch._ He grinned, pulling Isabela down for a full kiss.

“We should move to the-” Isabela tried to say, but he was one step ahead of her. Lena even cleared the way for them as Varric pushed Isabela back and through the door to the bed chambers. She obliged, sliding his robe off and undoing the tie in his hair.

Varric pulled back just long enough to draw Lena into a searing kiss, one that promised he’d be thanking her later in private.

“Should I get the oils?” Lena asked but did not wait as she opened the drawer he kept his lotion in, among other things. Selena paused when she saw the other items and sent a crooked grin at him. Varric gave her a smug grin.

“Oils?” Isabela pulled off her shirt, leaving her in only her boots, belt, and jewelry. Her heavy breasts were just that perky, even outside of the corset.  

“To make it easier for you. Varric’s a bit…” Lena explained with a gesture and Isabela understood. Isabela and Varric tumbled onto the bed, Lena stood by. “Varric, take her breast in your mouth.”

“Is this how it is between you two? You give him orders?” Bela’s questioned. Varric obliged with gusto. His hands and tongue working quick and powerful. “You’ve got him trained?”

Selena snickered as Varric slowed but she pushed his head back toward Bela’s breasts and then got to work on removing his trousers. “Not usually. Normally I’m a bit too busy to say much of anything.”

“She’s a screamer.” Varric chuckled.

“Am not!” Lena hissed.

“When she lets herself.”

“Shush you.” Lena slapped his shoulder and divested him of his and her own clothing.

“I’d love to hear that. Your head tossed back in passion, eyes a flutter as you moan progressively louder, so loud the crows can hear you. And you finally let someone else be in control, let yourself go and just _feel._ ” Isabela described, lips wet.

Varric sat back and stared. “Where’d you find such a goddess with words?”

“The Come On Inn.” Lena bit her bottom lip.

“Really?” Varric asked.

“Yes. This is what you miss when you stay in the Hanged Man all the time.” She teased.

“If it means you bring back treats like her.”

“Treat?” Bela gasped in mock offense. “I’m the whole feast.” She corrected.

“I’m famished.” Varric groaned and returned to her breasts, mouth open and tongue swirling over her nipples.  Isabela rolled her shoulders. Her hair loose as she tossed the bandana aside, leather gloves removed.

Selena watched from her position, eyes and lips glossy before she pulled her dress off and grabbed the bottle out of the drawer. She admired the view, Varric leaning over Isabela, pleasuring her tits. Isabela’s abdomen stretched out, the gold belly ring dangled across her tummy as she shifted.  Her mound was hairy, as was most in Thedas, but Lena blinked upon seeing a clitoral piercing glinting in the low light.

“Well that’s a surprise.”  She grinned and touched it with one finger. It wouldn’t be the first time she ate a woman out with one of those and it wouldn’t be the last.

Isabela still had her mid thigh high boots on, so Lena started on those. She unbuckled them and slid them off, revealing intricate tattoos down her thighs. She traced over them.  They continued up her thighs and to her back, but Lena would have to stop their activities to see the rest. She hadn’t considered Bela might have tattoos, then again the games don’t show you all that much nudity for her. Odd how you’d see Merrill in her breast band and smalls and all her adorable glory and yet Isabela was fully clothed.

Kissing Isabela’s thigh, she nuzzled against her.

“Don’t be shy, guppy. I’m sure you can hold your breath.”

“Pfft, for three and a half minutes.” Lena huffed.

“Oh everyone can do thaa-t.” Isabela responded a little elongated when Varric gave a sharp bite to her collarbone.

Rolling her eyes, Lena opened the oil bottle and put a light sprinkle on her fingers. She’d have to use a lot more to prepare Varric’s cock. She blew on Isabela’s clit and nudged it with her nose, gentle and slow, until Isabela rolled her hips taunting and impatient. Bela was even more impatient than her!

Grinning, Lena split her lips and let a dollop of saliva drip on her clit before she licked it up and sucked. Tongue rolling and widening, pressing flat and using the piercing to make Isabela’s moans escalate. One finger slipped inside Bela’s heat. Her moist juice coating her fingers and dripping.  Maybe they didn’t need the oil, but she rather they be safe than sorry.  Lena wasn’t a new pony and even she wished she’d had a little extra to make it slippery that first time.  The subsequent fucks after Varric was prepared.

She slurped Bela’s wetness and mixed with the oil, spread it along her lips. Another finger slipped in and scissored to stretch her out.

“Dear, you don’t have to do that.” Bela called from above.  Lena looked over her mound at her.  Varric had even stopped to watch her work Isabela over.

“Trust me. A little stretching… is necessary.” Lena licked her lips, wiping her jaw. She gestured with her head at Varric’s cock. He stroked it, foreskin sliding back and forth and head leaking. Lena hummed, cum hungry all of a sudden.

“You might want to consider her advice.”  Varric smirked, smug and preening from the appreciation.

Feeling their gazes on her, Lena returned to Bela’s slit. With care, she slid three fingers in.  Not meaning to treat the pirate gentle like, but because it’d been awhile since she’s cut her nails.  They were longer than she wanted them to be. Long nails were not conducive or safe to fingering anyone.

Swirling her fingers inside of Bela, she looked up to see her leaning over swallowing Varric’s cock.  The edges of her lips strained around his girth as she bobbed up and down, jewelry jingling and hair to one side. Varric sat back, enjoying the view and sensations staring at her with half lidded eyes.

Crooking her fingers, she twisted her hand and stretched.  Her knuckles pressed against Bela’s walls, slipping in and out of her as Lena began to thrust. A gagging sound had her pause but then the sound of more slurping and Varric grunting reassured her.

“Hey….woah. _Woah. What are you doing_?!” Varric hissed.  The bed jostled.

“Oh...I thought-” Bela said and sent Lena a look. “You haven’t popped his-”

“Saving that.”  Lena called and went back to work.

“Just a little bit?”

“No.” Lena quipped, glaring at Bela.

“Just my pinkie?”

Lena glowered. Varric looked between the two. “What are you two talking about?”

“Professional matters.”  

“Oh you’re no fun.”

“Really? I suppose I should stop this?” Lena twisted her fingers and Bela groaned.

“Oooh, please don’t.”

“Thought so.”

“Can we go back to-”

“No.” Both women responded and both resumed performing. Lena got a little bolder, and braver and thrust her fingers a little faster and harder, rubbing along Bela’s walls.  She made a point to edge around a particular spot that had Bela’s hips tensing and quivering.

“You tease.” She moaned and rolled her hips to meet Lena’s thrusts.

“If I had my tools of the trade, I can show you what _real_ teasing is.” Lena cooed. Bela’s eyes lit up.

“Selena.” Varric groaned, “My turn.”

Lena slid back, standing to give Varric room as they switched spots.

“Wait.” Bela sat up, and drew Lena into a kiss. “Come here, my little guppy.” Isabela’s upperarms flexed as she pulled Lena onto her lap and flipped them until Lena’s back hit the bed. Her arse hoisted up into the air, wagged at a chuckling Varric.

“Why does everyone manhandle me?!’ Lena complained.

“You’re just so small and cute.” Bela breathed and nipped her ear. Lena gasped as Bela’s hands ran down her sides light and ticklish.

“Am no-mhmm.” Bela's tongue and lips swallowed her protests. The skin on her ribs jumped as Isabela passed her fingers and raked her nails. They spread over her breasts and scraped over her nipples, soothing the scratch with the pads of her fingers. Selena fisted her hands in Bela’s soft curls, scraping her scalp before curling locks around her fingers.

“Hmm, yum.” Bela whispered, drawing Lena’s bottom lip out. Teeth bared she nipped. Their breaths hot and mingling as they kissed. Selena had a fascination with the tongue ring Isabela had, the way it rolled on her tongue. It wasn’t the first time but it was different and made her center coil tight. Cold metal down there was delightful.  

“You are incredibly tasty.” Varric called from between her thighs.  His tongue continuing what Lena started.

“Unf.” Lena silenced herself.

“Don’t be stingy.” Bela whined and dipped down to take Lena’s breast in her mouth, sucking and releasing with a pop. “Let me hear you sing.”

“I don’t-” Lena groaned.  “I don’t siiing.” She shuddered out, and something else rumbled in her throat - something deep and and tall. Her voice splintered and for a moment, a heartbeat thudding in her chest and ears, loud. It mirrored her own.  “Wha-”

She blinked and Varric was beside her, kissing her. “Where’s the oil?”

Lena shook her head and held the still open bottle up. Her hands shaky, she gripped it too loose and it slipped, spilling between her and Isabela. It glistened and gooped, making their breasts slippery with the warming lubricating oil.

“Fuck.” Lena swore.

“Oh shoot.” Bela pulled back, trying to keep the oil localized but most of it had fallen on Lena.

“Let me get a cloth.” Varric climbed off the bed quick.

“Wait.” Selena coughed around a lump in her throat. “Stay there.” She barked out, using the voice she uses with Sebastian. It felt odd bringing that out here with Varric but it had him pausing and staring at her in shock.

“I know how to fix this.” Lena sent a mischievous grin at Bela and climbed off the bed, dragging one of the pillows and dropping it at Varric’s feet.

“Oh...oh!” Bela laughed. “Oh guppy you’re full of surprises.”

“Can someone enlighten...uh...Lena.” His voice trailed off when Lena held her tits up and squished his cock between them.

“This would be easier for her if you were sitting.” Bela instructed and Varric sat and Lena followed, lifting and lowering her breasts, squishing them tight. Varric inhaled when she angled her head down and also took his cock in her mouth. The oil spread as she worked him over. Tight and slippery.

“Ancestor’s tits…” Varric whined, hips thrusting up.

“My tits.” Lena giggled. Tongue swirling around Varric’s head and sucking, she didn’t notice when Isabela knelt beside her and grabbed hold of her chest and did the motions for her.

“Concentrate on your man’s cock, i’ll take care of this.” Bela whispered. Both women serviced Varric, working together to get him closer to the edge.

Lena hummed, the vibrations of her mouth working down her tongue.

“Fuck!” Varric’s hips stiffened and he thrust up, teeth grit as he growled.

“Cum for us, Varric.” And cum he did, all over Lena when Bela pulled her head back letting Varric spray and cover her chin, face and tits. “Oops.” Bela did not sound apologetic as she began licking it up.

“Shit, Lena I’m sorry.” Varric brushed a splatter away from her closed eye.

“This is why I usually swallow.” Lena grumbled but it came out husky because of Bela’s machinations.

“But you wouldn’t have _shared_.” Bela mumbled.  

“His cum…” Sliding her fingers into Bela’s hair, Lena grasped tight by the roots and pulled the future pirate queen up. “...is always mine.” She hissed and pushed an open mouth kiss on her, stealing the cum right from Bela’s mouth. It dribbled between them as she pushed the rivaini pirate against the side of the short bed.

“Damn.” Varric shook his head, spectating.  While spent, it wouldn’t be an issue if they kept that up.

Selena straddled Isabela, their tits pressed tight as they kissed. She kept a firm hold on her hair, controlling where she could turn her head. She yanked back and attacked Bela’s neck, nipping and intent on leaving hickeys there.

“Oh guppy.” Bela moaned.

“I am just as much of a shark as you.” Lena growled, taking control.

“Yes, you can - oh!” Bela jumped when Lena’s fingers slipped between them and worked her over. Isabela’s hips rolled but Lena growled and twisted their bodies until they lay on the floor.

“Who is in charge?” Lena rumbled.

“You are.” Bela grinned.

“And who gets to swallow the cum?”

“Hmm… me?” Bela teased and gasped when Lena’s hand came down harsh on her thigh, soothing the sting with a rub. “You... oh, you do.”

“Good girl.” Lena rasped and continued working Bela over until she was squirming and twitching.

Lena clambered off the floor, licking her fingers clean.

“Well that was certainly something.” Varric said now that they were standing.

“Hold on.” Bela said as she stood on shaky legs, eyes blown out and dark from the orgasm Selena had given her.

“Hmm?”

“She has yet to cum.” Bela pointed out.

“You mean after all of that…” Varric narrowed his gaze. “You still haven’t?”

“I’m good.” Lena shrugged. “It was for you anyway, Varric.” She turned away, searching for her dress.

“Unacceptable.” Isabela crossed her arms.

“I have to agree.”

“It’s not a big deal. Plus it was so much hotter watching you two come.”

“It is a point of pride, that I can make any man-” Isabela began, holding a finger up when Lena looked to interrupt. “Or woman cum from just my touch.”

“Good luck with that.” Varric smirked.

“Two sovereigns says I can.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Varric snarked.

Bela grinned.

“I wouldn’t have.” Selena cautioned.

“Get on the bed, little moon goddess.” Isabela cooed.  Selena’s cheeks burned at the meaning of her name. How had she even known what it meant?! Shaking her head, she climbed on the bed and once again Isabela was between her legs. “Just lay back and enjoy it.” Isabela lowered her mouth onto Lena’s sopping cunt.

Lena was already wound up tight as it was. She had a feeling it wouldn’t take long to have her gushing. At least until she saw Varric watching and stroking his cock. It was already hard again.

“Varric.” She breathed. “Fuck her.”

Isabela’s head snapped up. “Wait. He can’t do that! I’ll be distracted!”

“Just evening the playing field. I’m wound up as it is. Unless you think you can’t do it?”

“You... _cheat._ ” Bela grinned, yet wiggled her hips. “Just you watch, you’ll be handing me two sovereigns at the end of the night.”

“I’m not the one that bet. Just making it fair is all.” Lena giggled, and drew Bela’s head back down.

“I love the way you think, love.” Varric called as he lined up and slid into Bela and out at a languid pace. Selena got to watch him work as Bela’s tongue edged her closer. How his hips pivoted and, how he gripped Bela’s hips and swirled his hips. Fast and then slow, hard and then light.  All the while he groaned, Bela moaned - the vibrations aiding her in almost winning the bet. And Lena bit her to silence her own sounds, wanting to listen to theirs, letting it roll over her.

Her hands returned to Isabela’s hair, not gripping, but petting, twirling and enjoying the sensation of her soft curled strands. The spicey scent of the ocean wafted up and around her.

“Do you have some fascination with my hair, guppy?” Bela whispered.

“Cosmos, yesss.” She groaned back. Bela’s tongue slipped deep inside of her, rolling around. “How’d you get it so soft?” She managed. Perhaps she did want Varric to win that bet.

“I could show you.”

“What do you use?”

“It’s a special oil from the coconut fruit. It’s from the north.”

“Oh fuck, coconuts. I haven’t had those - unf… in forever.” Lena groaned. “Is there argan oil, its what I used to use.”

“You know about argan oil?” Bela propped herself up, pleased. “Makes things easier. I have a few  bottles on my ship.”

Varric paused his thrusting “We’re fucking and you two are talking about haircare?!”

“Some of us are multitaskers.” Isabela quips back.

“Hey now, he’s quite good at multitasking.” Lena defended.

“Not when he’s concentrating he’s not.” Isabela gave a pointed swirl of her hips.

“Evil women.” Varric grumbled but began thrusting with renewed interest.

They both giggled and Bela returned to her task.

When they stopped talking, the ambient sounds of sex became that much more obscene. The slapping, smacking of lips.  Slurping and grunting, hissing, raspy breaths and groans. It was a little too much for Lena, after everything she had done that night, after the excitement of meeting Isabela and then stashing bodies, and now her first Thedosian threesome with her two favorite rogues.

“Hnnggggh.” She whined, hips squirming and back arching.

“Fuck…” Varric rasped, knowing the sound and the impatient twitch of his girlfriend. He did nothing to stop it but watched as her legs flailed out and teeth flashed as she came, and hard.

“Maker! You’re gushing!” Isabela exclaimed sitting back.

“Yeah… Yes she does.” Varric preened and gave a final thrust.

 

* * *

 

Sometime after they changed the sheets and they had wiped as much of the oil and mess of sex clean, all three lay in Varric’s bed. Only because it was quite late and Lena invited Bela to sleep with them.

“Again? I don’t think we’re ready for another go.”

“Sleep-sleep.” Lena rolled her eyes and drew the blankets back.

Varric joined them and while Lena fell into a deep sleep, he didn’t. He watched Isabela, who knew he was watching her sleep. It was no surprise he didn’t sleep much but when the bed shifted in the early morning hours, not three or four hours later, Isabela was climbing out with careful ease. Her back to him as she stretched, the tattoos that lined her shoulder blades and down her spine to her lower back were detailed dark lines of waves and sea monsters and an endless horizon. For a moment he thought he saw a word or a name depicted in the black ocean but it fled as soon as she slipped her shirt back on.

“Leaving so soon?”

Bela looked over her shoulder at him with a grin. “I don’t stay in port for long.”  She was up and walking toward her other effects.  Her boots slipped on, belt clasped and gloves back in place. He hadn’t even noticed the daggers on her boots. Once she was dressed, she made to leave out the door. Varric was up with his robe pulled on.

“Come to make sure I don’t steal anything?”

“Just making sure you understand something.” Varric chuckled. “This…” He gestured between him, her and Lena asleep on the bed.  “It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t you think you ought to ask her?” Bela smirked.

“I don’t make a habit of sharing like that.” He explained.

“And if she wanted to?”

“If she does, then that’s a different story. But what we did, she thought she had to treat me. So it won’t happen again, understand.” He leveled with her.

Isabela leant against the door, squinting at him. “You don’t think you deserved it.”

“That is not what I said.”

“But you were hesitant when we began. I _saw_ you. Most men would have jumped at the chance.”

“I’m not most men.” Varric snorted. “I’m a dwarf.”

“Alright. So it won’t happen again.”

“And you’re not to flirt with her.” He added as an afterthought. “Well… not _seriously_.”

“Duly noted.” Bela rolled her eyes. “You’re quite territorial.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Fair point.” She smirked. “I’ll see you around, Varric.” She opened the door but turned to give Varric’s chest another run through. “She was right, it does make me quiver.”

 

* * *

Daerin blinked and shut the book, shifting in his chair - the tightness in his pants uncomfortable. P-perhaps he should wait a few more days before alerting his grandfather. Let the girl… develop a bit more. With cheeks red, he slipped up the stairs, the book under his arm.  Normally they _never_ took it upstairs but there was no harm in just the once. For a re-read.  In private. _Maybe_ twice.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy Belated Holidays! Bet you all enjoyed this chapter! I know I did. ;) Anyway, I've had two fantastic individuals draw some AMAZING fan art and I'd like to link you guys! 
> 
> The talented [Nightlydoodle](http://nightlydoodle.tumblr.com/post/151855868586) and [debatable-cerealkiller or sharkrunaways ](http://sharkrunaways-art.tumblr.com/post/154885500877/selena-river-from-comavampure-s-amazing-fanfic).
> 
> I've been doing some planning for future chapters, because I began this story with a basic idea and very vague plot points but I've been figuring out the way it will work out. I've had huge help Spellweaver. She's really helped me work out so many kinks ;) that I know you guys have enjoyed and will enjoy in the oncoming chapters. 
> 
> Also shoutout to LonelyAgain again for some dialogue help. The "quiver" ones, if you know what I mean. :D
> 
> Edit: just to reveal why Isabela knows What Lena's name means, I've got this headcanon that before she started rebelling and trying to be free in the marriage with Luis, Isabela spent much of her time reading. So she's a self taught woman and is fairly well educated.


	34. Law of Causality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which came first, the Slut or the Whore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spellweaver inspired the title for this chapter, and also helped me with the last scene! It wasn't sitting right with me in the original and then I edited it and I love how it came out now. So yay! Thanks Spell!

Varric would have gone back to bed once Isabela left but their clothes were strewn about everywhere.  He took a moment to pick it up and set it in the same drawer he had seen Lena drop her other items in. Once again, the guilt twisted inside him. If she hadn’t intended on buying that building to live in, then why was she buying it? And now he had the deed to the building.  It was in his name and to get it switched would mean he had to have Lena sign it and have it officially done at the Seneschal’s office.

He pulled the deed out, his House’s seal on it. He groaned, rubbing his face. Varric screwed himself.  It wasn’t like he could give it to her as a present. She hated being given tangible presents.  Food was one thing, but this...he could just hear the condemnation and anger in her voice, even if he had not angered her truly yet. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the sort he’d like.

“Balls.” He sighed.

There was a knock on the door. He shoved the deed away and opened it to see Isabela there.

“Thought you didn’t stay in port for long? Or have you come back to run your fingers through it.”

“Oh stop. Now you’re teasing me on purpose.” Isabela smiled but held out a small brown bottle. “It’s for her.  I did say I’d get her one.”

“And you’re not charging?”

“Call it, a gift. For the night.”

“Lena doesn’t take gifts well.”

“She’ll love this one. I know a girl desperately in need of hair oils when I see one.”

“Huh.” He grabbed it, curious. He opened the bottle to smell it, looking at Bela a touch of suspicioun. He didn't know the substance but it didn't smell poisonous.

The door to his bed chambers opened.

“You left without your two sovereigns.” Lena yawned as she shuffled out of the bedroom with the blanket wrapped around her tight. “And…” Lena trailed off as she opened the drawer Varric had stuck her dress in and pulled out a sealed parchment. “You’re still headed toward Denerim, right?”

“In that general direction.” Isabela shrugged but grabbed the sealed parchment and the small purse of coins Lena dropped in her palm, tucking them into her shirt.  “How do you know I won’t just burn it?”

Lena leveled a smile at Isabela and a shrug. “I don’t.  But I’m a decent judge of character. I have high hopes you’ll get it there. Thanks, Izzy.”

Isabela stared at Lena as she shuffled back toward the bedroom, the door closing.  It opened a moment later and the rest of the blanket that had caught on the bottom was yanked before it closed. She was sweet. She’d said she could be as much of a shark as her, but she was too nice. It made her pause and send Varric a glare. What was he guilty about?

She didn’t say anything as she left their room.  The Hanged Man was only opening its doors.  It was a seedy dive that she rather liked upon walking into it last night with Lena in tow.  The barmaid Norah directing her where to take the drunken moon guppy.  She was an interesting sort, they both were. Varric was lucky to have her.  

A prostitute who happened to have giant spiders at her command and had a Guardsmen covering for her little pets and alerting her when they got too out hand? That was not something you see everyday.  It didn’t escape her notice of the smaller glowing spider in the room either.  She half expected it to spit acid at her with the way it drew too close.

Lips pursing, she rolled her shoulders and headed for the docks. She didn’t want to get too involved, but maybe the next time she’s in port she’d ask how Lena was doing.  Who knows, relationships were always so rocky and temporary.  If they weren’t together then, Isabela wouldn’t mind some female companionship on board.

 

* * *

 

“Stupid circadian rhythm.” Lena grumbled as she yanked the pillow under her to cover her face, but it was in vain. She’d woken when she heard Isabela return and now she wanted to go back to sleep.  Last night’s activity took her to a place in her past she thought she was done with.  She’d been young once. It felt odd being twenty-seven and able to say those types of things.  Lena supposed she had a few of her more partying years left in her, just not _those_ kinds of parties.

Grunting, she kicked the sheets off as Varric came back into the room with a tray from downstairs. The wafting scents of juicy sizzling thick cut nug bacon and porridge with a dash of cinnamon and slices of apples had her mouth watering.  After last night’s activities she was going to need a lot of calories to make up for her. Varric set the plate on the bedside table.  When she got a look at it, her stomach growled.

“You spoil me.”  She mumbled and sat up. “I mean you really do. I swear you’re trying to fatten me up and stuff me in an oven for you to eat later.”

“I wouldn’t do that, well maybe eat you.” He chuckled.  He had her sit back and handed her a bowl with two slices of bacon hanging over the edge. She didn’t wait and took the bacon, slurping the juices up as she tucked her legs beneath her with the blanket covering her lap. Varric sat next to her.

“You can - hmm, yum. You can eat me anytime if you keep feeding me like this.” She groaned and licked her fingers clean.  Lena tried to steal one of his slices but he held it away from her.  

“Nuh-uh, these are mine.” Varric tsked and bit into it. The grease dribbled down his chin as he grinned and chewed.

“Hmm-” She squinted and leant forward, lips puckered. Varric swallowed the bacon quick, expecting a kiss.  Instead her tongue lapped at his chin, sucking the grease off and then she kissed him. “You’re a messy eater.” She murmured between pecks.

“Says the woman who spilled the Llomeryn sauce all over my shirt at the last Enclave social.”

“What? You got in the way of my spoon!” Lena grumped, her hand sneaking toward the bowl he had perched between his legs. “Not like I didn’t clean it for you.”

“How did you get that red stain off?”

“Easy.” She shrugged, pulling back and making off with the other slice of bacon he’d left in his bowl.  “The sun can bleach stains off if you give it time, but that's just plain knowing how to keep your clothes clean with minimal effort.”  She grinned while stuffing the bacon down her gullet.

“Thief.” Varric smirked.

“Thats for the cakes.” Lena stuck her tongue out quick.

“You’d hold a grudge for the cakes?” Varric teased.

“I’ve held grudges for less.” Lena grinned whilst slurping her porridge. The slices of apples swirled in cinnamon before she popped them in her mouth.

The line caught him off guard, given the nature to how she said it. He didn’t think she was serious. He gave a light, if nervous, chuckle and that made her smile wider. She wasn’t serious, was she?

Lena finished her porridge much faster than he’d like and was off the bed in quick order.

“Where are you going?”

“Much as I love spending a whole day in bed,” Which she did. Gosh she missed it being able to just lay in bed and do _nothing_ but if she wanted to get back home she had to _do_ things. Maybe she’d catch a certain Antiquarian’s attention and maybe… _maybe_ find a way home. But for now she had her obligations. One of which was the Coterie’s businesses. “I have work to do. And I know you do as well.” Lena looked around the bedroom for her smalls.

Varric had no objections to her working. He was getting used to her being away during the day.  It was when she didn’t return until very late that had him worried. Like last night. She woke at dawn and hadn’t slept for very long. There were dark bags beginning to form under her eyes again. She wasn’t getting enough sleep again. He had only himself to blame. And she wasn’t entirely wrong about his needing to work either. There was always work to be done, information to gather, people to check on.  He wanted to make sure his spies were alright. Some hadn’t checked in for a week. But that can wait, he had some business to attend to first, with Lena.

“If you’re heading to the Rose, then we need to stop somewhere else first.”

“Where are we going?”

 

* * *

 

 

Tita’s shop was the same as the last time she’d been here. Considering the events of last time...she was shocked the little grove atop the buildings was exactly as she recalled.  There was even still a brown stain from where she remembered her blood spilling.  She gulped, remembering what Athenril had done, how Nika had been held hostage. Shaking her head she moved forward after Varric.

Tita’s wasn’t entirely out of the way but it was a stop they had to make. Lena had been an idiot. She hadn’t let it sink in that this place - Thedas - was real, and thus had real ailments. Germs, illness, sickness, and diseases. They were here to make sure they hadn’t caught anything from Isabela. _Stupid_ , Lena berated herself.  She’d forgotten that Isabela had visited Anders for such a problem after visiting the Rose one too many times. Even Anders had admonished her about it - not that it would have made a difference.  While the Rose had Idunna, the blood mage was there more as a deterrent and light healer. Never for anything more or complex as sexually transmitted infections healing.

“Do you even think she can help us? Maybe we should go to the Gallows for help?” Lena asked Varric as they walked through into the shop. The smell of the place was the same as a large pot of something was boiling over a purple fire.  There were tinctures, herbal remedies, and potions in bottles lining the table Tita had been laying on last she’d walked in.  She remembered how the elder woman had made her injuries disappear, and all without using magic.

“Really don’t think you want to explain to a Templar, let alone anyone associated with the Chantry that we need healing for our _bits._ ” Varric smirked. “Besides, Tita specializes in dwarva.”

 _Gee, I wonder why._ Lena frowned, recalling the elder woman’s words. _Tita is more dwarva than you._

The shop appeared empty. The wild haired woman nowhere to be seen. That didn’t stop Varric because he approached the table with an array of different herbs. Lena spotted some plants she was able to recognize, including seaweed. A pang of guilt made her squirm. She hadn’t actually eaten much of the kale Tita had given her. She’d sold it off as soon as she could and used the money for other things.

“Tita has visitors!” Came a muffled call from below and there was a flurry of rushed footsteps before the woman in question came bursting from the back area. Her golden eyes rimmed in blue were brighter, _glowing_ as she set her gaze on Lena. Recognition flitted over them before she faced Varric.  “Riri? Sela?”

“Riri?” Lena sent Varric a questioning smirk.  His responding groan and hand on his face was all she needed.

“Lena, don’t…”

“Oh, whats wrong _Riri_?”  She taunted.

“So help me, Lena, I’ll-” Varric hissed but was cut off as Tita walked forward.

“So much sorrow.” Tita muttered, her feet silent and wild mane seeming to tame with each step. Lena blinked. Those eyes unsettled her, twisting an uneasy feeling in her. She hadn’t felt that before.  Why now? “It reeks and flits off Sela. Tita not like.” She continued approaching and circled her.

“What sorrow?”

“Not Sela’s. Others. Riri’s, Tien’s, Deni’s... bonds, sticky and traps. Yanking deep. Do not drown, Sela.” She muttered and swiveled back around with a frown so deeply set she looked ancient, withered and tired.

Selena looked to Varric but he gave her an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re not here for prophecy, Tita. We’re here for healing.” Varric explained. Tita nodded and stared at him for a moment.  “After a night of...enjoyment.” He further explained with a cringe.

Tita rolled her eyes.  “Prophylactics!” She screeched with sudden anger and pulled a large glass container out from one of her cabinets.  It was filled with slimy filmy sheaths.  Lena gaped. _Condoms!_  “Tita tell you time and time again, Riri. Riri is too loose, too easy. How think Rand had Rori, too loose, too careless with others.  Riri want little halflings?!” She snapped and flung a handful of the things into a smaller glass jar.  “And you!” She waved her finger at Lena. “Sela should know better!”

Her cheeks flushed red, admitting that she knew she should have been using it. Lena hadn’t thought there were condoms in Thedas, let alone where she could get some. Though from the look of them, those were not latex. If anything they looked like lambskin. Varric sent her an amused look until the jar was thrust into his hands with a small poultice bottle.

“Drink half, spread rest on-” Tita scrunched her nose and gestured at Varric’s crotch with disgust. “Ick.”

“Er - right.” Varric nodded and went to pull a few coins. Tita smacked his hands and gave him a pointed look. “I can pay.”

“Tita still owe Riri. Return favor. Three more ailments.” She spoke with clarity and then turned to Lena with a scrutinizing look. “Sela. Come.”

“What? Aren’t you just going to-”

“Come.” Tita insisted and didn’t say again as she disappeared to the backroom.

“But-” Lena tried, yet Tita was already beyond the curtain. She tried to send Varric a glance but he was already sliding the bottle into one of his many jacket pockets. Catching her eye, he shrugged.

“Usually women need something a little more different.” He explained.

Selena went to follow but snapped a look back at Varric. Usually women needed something different? Exactly how many times has he needed to bring women here with him? He seemed to realize his mistake when she squinted at him, scrutinizing him.  She ducked into the back room before he could say anything else.

“Shit.” Varric grunted.

 

* * *

  

The backroom was lined with shelves that were filled with glass jars, both clear and dark, with weird herbs, tinctures and ingredients filled each jar. There were some that were dark until she passed, faint glowing green coming to life. She recognized the thing inside of it. It slopped and tried to jump at the wall of the container. It was a glowing green slime.  She jerked back and away, reminded of her time in the deep and dark caverns.

There were containers with live animals in it as well, their eyes peeking out. She came across one with a small habitat that she gave pause, even as Tita flitted about around her collecting items. Then something clinked against the glass container and there was a low screeching from beneath the porous cap. She shivered, gooseflesh rising on the back of her neck as she eyed the little thing as it skittered about in the glass.  Lena stepped back and it seemed to calm.

She bumped into the central piece of the room. A chair, one she recognized. It had a makeshift lever and what looked like a sliding panel and stirrups on the side. Lena sent Tita a curious look. She didn't know Thedas had any sort of proper gynecological study. Though she supposed if anyone did, it would be the dwarva.

“Remove underthings, Sela.” Tita spoke as she pulled a metal device Lena knew all too well from a pot of boiling water, a speculum.  Tita set it down on a pristine cloth and wiped it dry.  

“Uh… is this really necessary? Can’t you just give me a potion and-”

“Sela. _You_ should know. Sela is woman, Sela knows damage can go where it shouldn’t. If Sela not want to, then Sela should remember the-”

“Yeah, yeah. Condom. Ugh…” Lena cringed but slid her smalls out from under her dress and sat in the chair. It had been a year and a half since her last check up. The standards on Thedas were likely to not be anything like that of Earth’s. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Feet on-”

“I know. Not the first time I got a gynecological examination.”  Lena grumbled as she slipped her booted feet into the stirrups and felt the skirts of her dress pushed up her hips and legs spread wide. Tita pulled a privacy curtain around her and knelt whilst perched on a stool.  It was a basic examination and when the speculum had cooled, Tita used it. It spread her open wider, letting Tita view way up inside her. Lena stared up at the ceiling, putting herself elsewhere, but not so detached she wouldn't detect anything untoward.

It took all of two seconds for Tita to ask. “Sela...what is...” There was a tug on the string that hung inside her. Lena had to cringe, reaching down to stop Tita.

“Don’t! Don’t pull on that!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a device.” Lena explained. While Thedas may have some advancement into medicine, an IUD would be completely beyond their standards. “It prevents pregnancy.”

“How?”

Lena blinked. She knew the science behind it. But it was a science that no one on Thedas would understand, including Tita. “It just does.” She huffed.

“Hmm.” Tita hummed and rose from her stool. She pulled something else to the chair and gave more hums. “How remove?”

“What? No. You will not be removing it.” Lena sat up angry.

“Tita no like. Tita not understand.” Tita squinted at it. “Tita remove.”

“What?!”  Lena yelped. “I don’t care if you don’t like it. It stays. It serves a purpose.” Lena snapped, went to reach down to pull the speculum out of her. Tita’s grip stopped her.  “A purpose I need. You just need to take care of potential illness and injury.”

Tita sent a glower over the privacy sheet at Lena. Their gazes locked.  Tita’s golden eyes drowned with the widening of her pupils and for a long moment Lena lost herself in them. She could hear nothing, feel nothing but realized the passage of time.  There was a rumble inside her and Lena snapped out of it.  

“Sela is awake.” Came Tita’s low incredulous rasp.

“Awake?” Lena blinked and watched as Tita’s eyes returned to normal. The blue pulsing like blood.   “Get that thing out of me.” Lena growled.  Tita tried to lock her gaze with Lena as the amber gold returned and the blue became brighter.

“ _Zbgure bs Ber_?” Her voice graveled but it wasn’t like when the Titan spoke to Lena. It was different, clearer when spoken out loud and not in her voice. Lena still couldn’t distinguish what she was saying.

“Let me go.” Lena seethed, fear and unrestrained anger making her tremble. Her heart rattled her ribcage.

“ _Ber zbgure, vg vf lbhe ubaberq bar_.” Tita pleaded.

“Stop.” Her skin came alive with blue glittering sweat droplets. Breath heaving fast, she felt it rumble again, the sound of tectonic shifting.  

“ _Lbh unir fyrcg fb ybat._ ”

“Stop it!” Lena shouted now. It wasn’t entirely her voice but it brought Tita to a standstill, quiet as the whole shop gave a shake.  Glasses tinkled and the ground beneath gave a tremble.

“Lena!” Varric’s feet scuffed in a hurry over the floor toward the back curtain.

“Is everything okay?” Varric called from beyond the curtain. He didn’t want to intrude. Kirkwall wasn’t exactly unused to the occasional tremor, though it’d been years since the last earthquake.

“Yes.” Her voice called, shaky. Seconds ticked, breaths heaved and Tita finally came alive again to remove the speculum.  Wasting no time in pushing her skirts back in place, Lena didn’t bother to grab her smalls. She bustled away, and rushed past Varric.

“That thing. It not normal. It bad; bad for Sela.” Tita called to her, making her pause.

“You don’t even know what it is.” She seethed and exited Tita’s shop and out.

“Lena?” Varric called after her but she didn’t pay attention, leaving him behind.

 _Breathe._ Taking great gulps of air, the early spring breeze cooled her skin. She raked her hair back, trying to remove the chittering sounds of _it_ in her head.  It hadn’t spoken but she could feel it, pressing deep below the earth toward her by whatever connection the lyrium afforded it.

“Not here.”  She hissed to herself.  After last night and now this, she shuddered and crashed out onto the steps that led her and Varric there.  Thump, thump her heart thundered to her heavy footsteps. She used the sleeve of her dress to wipe her forehead and face, mouth parched. She’d left her effects in the shop. “Damnit.” She slapped the side of one of the buildings, her voice guttural. She coughed to clear it.

“Selena?” Varric came out with her things and she grabbed them. “I’ve got your-”

“We’re leaving.” She whispered, afraid of her own voice

“Mind explaining what happened?” Varric asked. Lena huffed and rushed up the stairs. Varric’s brows furrowed but followed after her. When he caught up with her, he pulled her into an alley and boxed her in by placing both his hands on the wall on each side of her.

“Tita doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Tita doesn’t know-” Varric frowned.  

“Can we go, I have books to manage.” Lena went to push his arm down but it remained firm, trapping her in his personal space. Usually she was okay, but it was stifling being there.

“So, when Tita said ‘That thing. It not normal. It bad.’  She’s wrong? Because Tita is the only healer in Kirkwall that specializes in dwarva. Given our natural resistance to magic, we kind of need her.”

“Oh, what, we couldn’t just go to an apothecary?” Lena snapped.

“No.” Varric said. The way he said it, it was like it should be common knowledge and that made Lena still.

“Don’t apothecaries take care of everyone?”

“Apothecaries take care of common illnesses for everyone, but most only know how to handle humans. You’d be lucky if they knew how to care for an elf.” Varric explained as though to a child. “What was the thing Tita was talking about?”

Selena was at a lost. Apothecaries weren’t just healers for everyone? A healer for every race? _No, species._ That changed so much of what she knew. “Uh...” She fumbled. “It’s...just a thing.” She shook her head.  

“Yes, but what is it.”

“An Intra-Uterine Device.” Lena mumbled while rubbing her temples. This was making her head hurt.  At least the thumping was gone.

“A what?”

“It prevents pregnancy.” She sighed.

“What?!” Varric’s voice was louder now and his brows rose high. “Why would you even have that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because there aren’t many dwarva?” Again Varric looked at her like this was logical.  And it was - to a _dwarf._ But she wasn’t dwarva.  At least not really, but he thought she was.  Lena messed up.  Even if she could pull this off as some sort of weird quirk from Kal-Sharok this was too weird, too different.  She thought quick for a white lie, an untruth, anything based off the lore she remembered that could be plausible or unprovable.

“I’m a whore. Not a noblehunter.”

The words were a slap to his face and a punch to his manhood. Varric stumbled back away from her allowing her to escape out of the alley and head toward the Rose.  She didn’t wait for him. Her words had made enough sense and, if she thought about it, it wasn’t untrue.  Lena wasn’t the type to force someone into caring for her or a marriage just because she had a kid. She wouldn’t do that to Varric.  She had no plans to become pregnant. Even if there weren’t that many dwarva she wasn’t going to be here for long enough for that to be possible.

She’d forgotten about the dwindling numbers of dwarva in Thedas, given how many dwarva she was around in the Enclave and her near constant presence around Bianca and Varric.  Lena had gotten used to seeing so many dwarva when normally she saw none.  She thought this was a lot.  Not to mention dwarva back home were not their own species; they were just born with dwarfism. She had an uncle on her father’s side who was a dwarf.  Lena had only ever seen him during holidays and while unused to his appearance, he was distinctly different to the dwarva of Thedas.

Frowning, she pushed into the Rose and headed right for the side room where she was working out of. The books slotted into the locked cabinets and came to a stop upon seeing Harlan and Viveka bickering with Madam Lusine sitting with her arm in a sling.

“I will not be going, Harlan. Someone has to help run the Rose this week.” Viveka snapped at Harlan.

“Lusine can do it just fine on her own.”

“And who will handle the money? And what if someone gets too out of hand? She can barely lift her arm.”

“ _She_ is right here.” Lusine snapped from her spot, her uninjured hand rubbing her forehead where a bruise was forming. Lusine was dressed in an especially high necked dress today, but it did little to hide the edges of a thumb shaped bruise on her neck.

Lena stood by the door, eying the three of them. They hadn’t noticed her. It was a common occurrence, on account of her being so short, to be ignored upon entering a room as she’d gotten the handle of opening doors quietly and slipping in. She was aware of her dimensions and how her weight shifted now, even if she was a bit clumsy going up and down stairs, unsure of where the next step was or if there even was a next step. So she said nothing as she slipped in, closing the door as silently as she’d opened it.

“Aunty, you’re injured and bruised. You _can’t_ be seen like this.” Viveka’s concern was foreign to Lena. She was more used to the little bitch’s condescending, snarky and downright _mean_ tones directed at her. The switch left her suspicious. As if she wasn’t already give she’d hired men to attack her and possible kill her.  Thankfully, Dopey was a very good spider.

“I can be seen just as well.” Lusine gripped out, standing but she swayed on her feet, her eyes rolled back in her head for a moment. With haste, before Lusine passed out, Viveka pushed her back into her seat.

“You can barely stand!” Viveka huffed, this time her brows etched in worry.

“I’m-” Lusine mumbled and shook her head to chase away the cobwebs.

If Lena didn’t know any better, she’d say Lusine had a concussion.

“She’s fine. Aren’t you, Madam?” Harlan’s voice took on a garbled quality, eyes vibrant and red.  Lusine shuddered; Viveka shivered and stepped away.

“What’s-” Lena meant to ask but her own voice came out not completely her own. She coughed. “What’s going on?”  Harlan gave a scowl, finally noticing Lena’s presence.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with, short-mouth.” Viveka sneered.

“Well, not exactly.” Harlan’s teeth flashed in a wolfish grin as he beckoned Lena closer. “You’ll go to the Tourney, and Lena...” He smirked while looking at her. “Be a dear...run the Rose for the week.” Harlan cooed. The sound sent disturbed shudders down her spine. He’d been marginally nicer to her when the coin started coming in larger quantities ever since she changed the way things were handled.  No bribery, no slipping coin under the books to keep certain businesses afloat, not to mention she outed one of his branch leaders in Starkhaven as running some shady dealings with the trades.  But she had to take a look at _his_ books to determine that fully. Either way, having Harlan the Horrible speak like that and look at her like that put her on edge.

“Wait, what?” Lena gaped.

“What?!” Viveka’s neck snapped back, affronted. “Her? She can’t run the Rose!”

“It’s either her, or one of my men.”

“Absolutely not.” Lusine rasped from her seat. “If you have one of your men do it, I’ll come back to the wines emptied and the girls bruised.”

“They know better than to damage the merchandise.” Harlan snarled.

“As much as you do?” Viveka sneered.

“ _Viveka."_  Lusine warned. “What she means is that the last time you left Baltier in charge, Sabina ended up pregnant.”

“And that turned out for the better.” Harlan shrugged.

“A purse every week to keep hush is hardly enough to cover the costs of raising the brat.” Viveka huffed. “Isn’t it?” She asked Lena.

“Uh…” Lena blinked. She hadn’t actually done as thorough of a job with the Rose’s books yet. The operations were run oddly, and one she had to watch for on several weeks before she brought her findings to Harlan.  Either way, she did know there was a purse that came in and was supposed to go to Sabina’s brat, Pascal, but it usually went right to Harlan’s share.  She’d seen Lusine taking amounts out of her own share to pay for the child’s clothing and food. It was significantly less than the purse they received from the ‘anonymous donor’ once a week.  

“It doesn’t matter. Someone needs to run the Rose, and she’s the most equipped to handle it.” Harlan pointed at Selena.

“I’ve helped my aunt run this place since I was a little girl. She’s been in Kirkwall for barely nine months!” Viveka’s voice turned shrill.

“And she’s made a name for herself and you’ve naught but been a disappointment since you’ve been in pinafores. Couldn’t even sell your virginity because you went and slept with a dirty oxman.” Harlan spat at the floor.

Viveka’s cheeks blazed red. “It...I didn’t want to!” She flailed.

“Oh did you?” Harlan leant forward, his gaze saturated with crimson. “You and I both know that’s not true.” His hand raised, something red and shimmering over his gloved hand. “Go on, tell us the truth, Viveka.”

Lena gave it to Viveka, she gave it her best shot fighting the pull but she blurted out, “I wanted to.”

“Why don’t you tell us all about it. Tell me, did he tie you up?”

“No-” Viveka flinched when the shimmering became brighter. “Ye-yes!”

“Harlan.” Lusine rasped softly.

“Did he make you scream?” Harlan’s grin sharpened.

“Yes. He-he...” Viveka slapped a hand over her mouth but Harlan pried it away.

“Harlan. That’s enough.” Lusine snapped but it did nothing.

“Come on Viveka, tell us how much of a slut you are for ox cock. Tell us all how you begged for him to fuck you raw.”

Viveka’s lips trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“That’s enough!” Lena shouted. She didn’t like Viveka but blood magic left a bad taste in her mouth. She remembered what Harlan had been doing to Athenril and what other things he’d done to her she hadn’t seen but saw evidence of. Not to mention how Lusine was looking. She’d bet money that thumbprint on her neck was a match for Harlan’s right hand.

“Oh come now, Lena. You would _love this story_. It’s right up your alley. Ropes, chains, and bondage. I had the pleasure of catching Viveka amidst the act and by the maker it was glorious to see and fuck my palm to it later.  If only it weren’t for the fact she’d already agreed to a contract-” The distraction had given Viveka the chance to slap Harlan across the cheek.  His reaction was quick, he’d snatched her wrist and with a sharp yank, spun her until she was pressed face first against the desk. “You made a mistake, bitch.” He pressed his hips to her backside and Viveka gave a strangled cry.

“HEY! I said that was enough! You made your point!” Lena stomped forward and slapped the desk, glaring at Harlan. “She’ll stay here and run the place, I’ll go wherever the fuck you wanted to send her.” She growled.

Harlan side eyed her, his gaze still shimmering with the presence of blood magic. Lena challenged him. Her blue rimmed eyes met his red shimmering ones, their wills clashing and no one winning.

“Let her go in my place.” Lusine broke the tense atmosphere with a cough. Harlan and Lena broke eye contact to stare at Lusine.  “If she can handle the Tourney, then maybe next time she can handle the shop.”

“Hmm.” Harlan scratched her throat. “Fine. You’ll go to Chateau Haine.”

“What’s at the Chateau?” She recalled the place from the game. Lord Full-of-Shit was at the Keep yesterday complaining, she couldn’t remember why though. His accent was too thick for her to care to listen.

“The Kirkwall Tourney.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Tita says is "Ancient Dwarven" like I did in the chapter Tectonic Blues, but it isn't something I want you guys to know right away so I'm not offering the translation here. However if you want to spoil yourself, you can. Simply take the text and run it through a rot13 decoder. 
> 
> This chapter serves a lot of purposes. It is transitional and it helps set up the next few plot arcs. The next few chapters will be about the regional Tourney every Free Marcher city has. The one coming up is the Kirkwall tourney, opened to all Kirkwall residences and visitors but getting into the galas at Chateau Haine is a closed affair, only by invitation or being hired.
> 
> This chapter was mostly inspired by [Oh Cruel Darkness Embrace Me by IAMX ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJMmkAlx0lI)


	35. Dear Prudence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play? Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day! The sun is down, the sky is dark, it's ominous and so are you.

The Kirkwall Tourney was a four day celebration for all Kirkwall citizens and visitors. It was a qualifier to see who would represent Kirkwall in the next Grand Tourney’s melee, joust, and marksmith.  So long as they were a Kirkwall citizen, anyone could enter any of the contests, either armed or unarmed. The contests weren’t the only events; there were performances by traveling minstrels, seers from Rivain, traveling Dalish dancers, and all manner of entertainment and revelry.  It would be open to the public to enjoy watching.

The week long Spring Gala and Annual Wyvern Hunt at Chateau Haine would be hosted by it’s owner, Duke Prosper de Montford at the same time as the Tourney. The majority of the Tourney events happened during the day but it was the nighttime activities that the Duke would hold monopoly over.  It would be a private affair by invitation only, or if hired as a worker during the Gala. Servants, chefs, entertainers, and yes even women and men were hired for night time entertaining. That is where Lena and the Rose’s petals would come in.

Twas a two day journey to Chateau Haine by carriage with stops every couple of hours to let the horses rest and one planned stop at night where they would go off the path to sleep in the carriage and tent. They weren’t the only ones on the path.  There were other carriages, all headed for Chateau Haine to prepare for the Tourney.  It wouldn’t begin until Monday. Most were to arrive Saturday night and attend the Chantry’s services Sunday morning.  The Chantry was sending a Sister and a Brother to hold the chants at the Chateau, both of them invited.

Yet all of this was details, details Lena received from Lusine to prepare her.

“You’ll be away for nine days.”  Lusine explained, her voice hoarse. Viveka was wrapping her arm in a splinted bandage.

“Nine?!” Lena exclaimed.

“Two days to travel, you _will_ attend Sunday’s chants, and you will tend to the girls to ensure they are safe while they work. You will also keep track of the coin - _in detail_.” Lusine stressed whilst staring at Lena. “Of that I have no doubt you’ll do, but I want to know who hires our girls.”

“Okay.”

“The Tourney will run for four days, but your work is at night, so try not to get too distracted.  I suspect Duke Prosper will have a ball right after the Tourney ends. You’ll not be required to attend that, but no doubt the girls will be hired as escorts for the night.”

“What about my patron? He’ll notice I’m not here Tuesday.” Lena muttered. “I’ll have to give him my excuses.”

“Your Patron will be there. I heard he received a personal invitation.” Lusine waved a hand. “Now, as you are going in my stead, you are allowed to bring someone with you.”

“I have a plus one?” Lena perked up.

“Yes.” Lusine answered. “But you will be going to _work._ ”

“Yeah yeah.  Gotcha.”  Lena was already thinking of who to bring with her. Her mind flitted to Varric but given their last argument, she didn’t think she felt like bringing him. There was also Sebastian but he was going already. She chewed her lip. “Is Denier going?”

“Yes. As is Serendipity, Adriano, Faith, and Prudence.”

“Who is Prudence?”

“That is who is currently _that man’s_ left hand.” Lusine hissed. “I’m surprised _your_ man hasn't introduced you to her.”

“My man?” Lena squinted, knowing who she was talking about. “I don’t have a man. I have a friend, one who I am angered with right now.” Lena raised her nose.

“Oh? Hmm, yes well, Prudence is going to be the girls’ guardian for the duration of the Tourney.  I would suggest you bring someone for yourself.”

“Like a bodyguard?” Lena furrowed her brows at Lusine’s nod. Who did she know besides Sebastian, Varric, and Denier that she could trust with her protection? It’s not like she could go without. If the girls were going to have a protector then she needed one. She wasn’t martially trained. She couldn’t punch, she barely made it out alive with her encounter with Baltier. Sure, she knew the anatomy of people but that was only handy if she had a clear shot.

She might bite the bullet and ask Varric but she didn’t want to see him right then. If only she knew someone else who was good with a sword. She’d take about anyone so long as they had a strong sense of loyalty, or would do what she asked with a bit of coin for leverage.

A candle flame went on in her head.

 

* * *

 

Athenril was crouched outside of Arianni’s place with a smaller elf. She was lifting the younger elf’s arms and speaking low.

Lena’s brows rose as she stepped around the free of silvery ornaments vhenadahl. The shadow of Happy was overhead, skittering across branches. Lena paid little mind to the spider, instead her focus was on Athenril.

“You have to keep your shield up and tight against you. Otherwise they’ll knock it away easy and you’ll be defenseless.” Athenril spoke from experience.

“What about the sword?” questioned a familiar voice. It was Merry, dressed in sturdier leathers that hung a bit too loose for her child frame. No doubt she’d grow into it.  The elf child held a wooden sword and shield.

“You use the sword to attack but we need to make sure you know how to shield first. Dodging and blocking are essential. You do that, and then wait for your opening to attack. Plus you need to get used to holding both and not letting them fall before we work on you attacking.” Athenril spoke.

“Yes, messere.” Merry nodded.

Athenril caught Lena watching, her eyes narrowed. The former coterie was looking better. Her bruises faded but Lena could see she was still limping where her leg was still healing.  It no doubt helped she’d been healed by a very powerful dreamer mage, even if he was untrained.

“Go on, make the rounds on the rooftops.” Athenril pushed Merry off and stood up straight. A wooden cane at her side that she gripped and used to move forward.

Lena rose a brow as Merry caught sight of her as well and gave a childish grin before she was off into an alley and up what looked like a ladder to the roof.

“Rooftops?”

“Thieves and troublemakers don’t dare come down here anymore thanks to your spider.” Athenril offered the explanation. “Instead they prey on us from above.”

“Huh.” Lena glanced at Happy. “Do you want me to stop her?”

“No.” Athenril frowned. “Knowing where they are coming from is better. And they expect her. They don’t expect the rest of us to back her up. How did you manage to tame a giant spider?”

Lena blinked. She’d thought about it before. It didn’t make sense why the spiders would choose her of all people - _unless_ there was something off. And considering the time she spent under the blue stuff’s influence, she had a feeling it was the lyrium that allowed her to ‘tame’ the deep crawlers. “I don’t know to be honest. Probably has something to do with all that lyrium you tried to kill me with.”

Athenril didn’t flinch but her gaze directed down and she clenched her cane that much tighter.

“Feeling guilty?” Lena asked, grin wide.

 _No._ Athenril whispered in the deepest trenches of her mind, but said nothing. Athenril didn’t feel guilty for trying to take out someone who was as bad as Harlan, if not worse.  They were the same and they would ruin Kirkwall together.  Where Harlan was a terror and you shouldn’t cross him else his anger would turn personal; Lena was different.  Lena didn’t have that mean streak. No, she had a calm about her, a certain calculation.

But while they were different there was an unsettling similarity between Harlan and Lena. The problem was, no one else saw it because they don’t know. They don’t remember how the former began. Athenril remembers. Athenril was _there_.

Athenril was Kirkwall born and old enough to remember when Harlan took over the Coterie. He started out the same as Lena. Lowborn and working off a debt before he rose.  He was charismatic and a flirt that damn near broke every woman and man’s hearts in Lowtown. At one point, Athenril had been young and foolish enough to court his favor and attentions.  She got what she wanted when he saved her life. A deal gone bad and he protected her, and they fell into bed together.  It turned sour.  She sported the scar from the encounter on her chest. She thought the end result was another part of the undercity life but the gravity of the situation came clear.  He revealed she owed him and claimed her life as his to end when he saw fit.  Worse yet she was _marked_ as his. It was worse than being a slave in Tevinter. She was a slave with the illusion of freedom. Oh sure she could get away with not showing up for work, but when he needed something, needed someone, she would be there.  There was no fighting it.

Now she had a similar debt to Lena. One the tiny dwarf already claimed. There was no physical mark like with Harlan but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Athenril shuddered to know how deep the compulsion would be if she could already feel when Lena needed her. It took months for Harlan’s influence to make it known.  For Lena… it took that one sentence. _“Your life is now mine.”_

“Well, I know a way to assuage that guilt of yours.”  Lena continued.  Athenril blinked, and nodded. “Do you want a job?”

“A job?” Athenril frowned.

“I’m heading off to the Tourney and I have a plus one. Lusine suggested I get my own protection. You’re the only one I can marginally trust with my life.”

“I tried to kill you and you trust me to protect you?” Athenril gaped.

“Yeah but you did it out of fear of your indiscretions being caught. Without me, you’d be dead right now. Or worse. And without me, my spiders will be going pretty crazy.  Don’t know if you noticed but there are a lot more spiders around, and bigger ones. They tend to get hungry fairly often.” Lena shrugged and smiled. “And they consider the Alienage their home.” Lena tapped her foot in quick succession. A dark shadow from the tree scaling down, Happy coming to her side on command.

Athenril swallowed, shifting with her cane. Arianni and Feynriel came to the forefront of her mind, their protection and safety was her first priority. “What will you have me do?” She felt herself say.

The slow stretching pleased smile mirrored the one she recalled Harlan having all those years ago. It made her shiver with disgust.

 

* * *

 

A quick jaunt to the Hanged Man, and Lena was back to the Rose. Or more specifically to the edges of Hightown where they were to meet to get on their carriage to head out.  Lena had grabbed a few things. Her books, her own coin purse, Dopey, and the newest copper wired rune and her ipad. It was charging and it was almost one hundred percent. She didn’t dare turn it on or use it around Varric, much less Bianca.  But maybe while away she could.  It was deep in her own wooden lockbox that she loaded into the carriage.

The Rose’s carriage was big enough for two people to sit up front and lead the horses and have six people in the compartment with their bags on the end. She eyed the metal wheels, scrunching her nose, knowing how bumpy this ride was going to be. She wouldn’t be able to get any proper writing down but she could look over the numbers for the Rose and Florian’s shop some more. Florian’s shop was doing a lot better now that he knew she wasn’t expecting a bribe or a portion of his proceeds to go into her pocket. Though she did enjoy a jasmine tea when she did visit.

“So you’re our keeper?” Denier laughed as he walked toward the carriage.  Serendipity at his side.  Adriano and Faith weren’t far behind. There was another human with them, one she didn’t recognize.  She was blonde haired, grey eyed and pleasant. She wore an elegant dress and held a bag, but the way she held herself was like she was a noble. Her smile was kind but it didn’t reach her gaze. It was like looking at Elegant in the Lowtown markets on a bad day.

“Aye I am.” Lena smiled as Denier wrapped an arm over her shoulder. _Again with the physical contact._ She didn’t say anything but let him do as he pleased. He never did anything untoward, not even the butt pinching anymore - that she had to thank Varric for, albeit begrudgingly.  Her gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek before getting into the cart.

“Ah. You’re River?” The strange human woman asked as she came upon them.

“Yes. And you are…”

“Prudence. I have heard so much about you.” The woman’s smile was _too_ pleasant, _too_ nice, and _too_ welcoming. Her poise and perfected way of moving reminded Lena of a Stepford wife.  Just _too_ put together.

“You have?”

“Come, we’ll talk more in the carriage.” Prudence didn’t wait and put her bag with the others and climbed in.

There were other nobles and people setting up their own carriages to head out. Lena looked around for Athenril. She’d told her to be here as quick as she could. They had to leave before noon. Their driver was already leading out the horses. His gait was slow and shuffling, his head bowed and low. There was something familiar about him. She was about to call out to him when she caught sight of Athenril.

“Finally.  We were about to head out.” Lena admonished as Athenril dropped her own bag with the others and climbed in.  Adriana had opted to sit up front, something about enjoying the fresh air and sun. Denier quipping back about his fascination with horses.

“Had to get a few potions.” Athenril mumbled and climbed into the carriage, freezing upon seeing Prudence. “Prudence.”

“Athenril? My it’s so good to see you in good health.” The woman was too polite. Her tone of voice, smile, everything was _wrong_.

“What is she doing here?” Denier gruffed, glaring at Athenril.

“I invited her.” Lena shrugged and settled in. They were squished.  On the bench closest to the horses she sat, with Denier and Serendipity.  Opposite to them was Faith, Prudence, and Athenril. There were bags underneath the bench filled with some hard tack, water skins, fruits, bread, and their tent equipment.

Denier grumbled but glared at Athenril as the carriage began moving. It was slow going and they stopped two hours to let the horses rest and they climbed out to stretch their legs. Not Prudence.  Prudence sat in the carriage cross-stitching. She didn’t engage in conversation, neither did Athenril.  The two silent. Instead Denier, Dip, and Faith talked about the feast and partying they’ll be able to do. Lena reminded them they would be working.

Lena gave Adriano a break and sat up front after they stopped for midday meal. Most of them were tired anyway and unused to being up this long. So they slept. Plus, Lena wanted to get a look at the driver.

“So…” Lena began as she sat there, looking at him. “What’s your name?”

The man grumbled something low, but she couldn’t understand. His hair was dark, and hung in lanky strings. It didn’t help he had an overgrown beard.

“Sorry what was that?” she prodded him. Again he mumbled. She leant forward, thinking he couldn’t speak up.

“Samson.” he gruffed, but didn’t look her way.

“ _Samson?_ ” Lena craned her neck to get a better look at him. “Raleigh Samson?”

He gruffed again, this time wiping his nose and nodding.

It was the first time she got a look at his hands then.  They’d been gloved before when he got the horses but they were bare now and bandaged.  Dirt underneath his fingernails and bruised knuckles. There were splotches of blood on the bandages, fresh blood. Lena frowned.

“Look at me.” She whispered. And he did.  His eyes were sunken and dark, hazy but sharp enough to drive. Beneath his beard she could see the bruised flesh and he gave a crude smile.  She remembered he’d had all his teeth but there were gaps in them where teeth were missing. “What happened to you?” Granted she was still pissed at him, but it hadn’t been his fault. Not really. The fault lay with the former coterie in the cart. Samson was an unwitting pawn in her schemes. Samson didn’t answer, grumbling as he turned back to driving.

When they stopped for the night, Lena watched him. He didn’t join them in the tent and instead pulled a blanket out and slept on the bench in the cold. She frowned.

“What happened to Samson?” She prodded Athenril for answers as they all settled in for the night.  Other carriages and their own tent sites not far off. The elf didn’t answer her, shaking her head and stood watch in turns with Denier and Adriano throughout the night.

Lena didn’t sleep well that night. Her shapings were plagued by the dark and she woke up yelling, only for Serendipity and Denier to squish her between them, shushing her until she fell back asleep.

 

* * *

 

When given the choice, Lena was an early riser.  She woke with the dawn and so she was awake before the others.  Even before Prudence. Samson was awake as well and he was swinging a sword away from the camp. His hair and beard matted with sweat and filth, and his undershirt was yellowed and brown.

Lena peered at him around the tree, staring.  Dopey was still asleep in her hair but she watched.

Raleigh took his shirt off revealing ugly, dark marks of burns, bruises, and long deep scars along his torso and back. There were old ones yes, lovey faded discoloring his skin but it was the resh ones that looked scabbed over and some were even still bleeding. Lena watched as he went through the motions of practice, his form stiff but powerful. He was girthy and not defined. The muscles he possessed were all hard and immovable. She recalled how he had been able to heft her up with ease with minimal straining. He was built for it, and it showed.

His breath heavy and grunting as he made slashing movements and his left hand looked bare.  The way he moved it was as though he were used to carrying a shield.  He faltered in one step and growled. There were angry mutterings and he dropped his sword, shaking and rocking until he lashed out with his fist at a tree. Repeatedly he hit it until he gave a guttural cry. One of his scars twitched and twisted on his back, burning vibrant red.  Streams of steam coming off it for a moment before calming. Samson’s breath came out in haggard huffs.

Lena did nothing as she watched in silence. It was a long time until he got back up and pulled his shirt back on. Then he was off preparing the horses with the same hunched downcast shuffle without so much as tending to his wounds or pain.

She made a dip to her lock box and pulled out her jar of poultice. She’d had it refilled at the apothecary recently. With some bandages as well she grabbed a bucket of water and made sure her daggers were on her.

 

* * *

 

Horses were simple. You took care of them right, brushed them down, made sure they didn’t sweat overnight, braided their tails and kept their frogs clear of stones and you were fine. Feed them, water them, and give them treats and they were overgrown children. They didn’t hit you, didn’t taunt you, didn’t abuse you.  They sure as fuck didn’t tell on your superiors you were passing notes for the Mages.

Raleigh liked the solitude he found caring for the Coterie’s horses.  Better than the last horsemaster they had.  Their last horsemaster didn’t care much for the horses.  He was a cruel sort and Samson remembered what it was like to care for the Harts on his father’s farm. Horses and Harts weren’t too different. He was the third son, but he’d had ideas that he’d tend for the farm once he became of age.  But once his mother died, he was sent away to the Chantry and his older brother took over his duties.

Now though, he didn’t mind it so much.  They were quiet and though it reminded him of his family, he could take solace in it. Remember the better times before the lyrium. At least what he could recall. He couldn’t even recall the face of his mother. His brows furrowed as he shook himself out of his memories and brushed the horses down once more, more for his own comfort than theirs and then sat on his bench.

The cool morning was good against him and he let it seep in.  Faint memories of the heat of lyrium coursing through him made him sweat. Sometimes, when he could get a few pinches of the dust, he became feverish until clarity set in and he could sense again, feel whole and connected. Now, it was dull and left his mouth parched.  Withdrawal was a bitch, but he didn’t have the coin to get more of it.

“Samson.”

He peered at the female dwarf who came upon him. Raleigh felt like he should know her, felt like she was familiar, like he’d seen her before but everytime he tried the name escaped him too fast. That happened a lot. “Messere.” He gruffed and tipped his head down in greeting. He was here on a job.  Drive the carriage to the Chateau.  He’s made the trip before, dozens of times.

He squinted as the dwarf got closer and climbed onto his bench next to him.

A shudder went through him when the wind sent her smell to him. He took a deep breath and felt warm.

“You don’t look too well.  Mind if I take a look at your hands?” The female dwarf gestured to his hands. Dried caked on blood and more bruises. _When had those gotten there?_

He held them to her, watching as she undid the bandages. The skin broken and bits of wood, grass, dirt, and bark brushed away.  She poured water over his hands and cleaned them, scrubbing.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” It didn’t. But when had it happened? He couldn’t remember. No that wasn’t right. He was punching trees. Like he did every morning after his exercises. _Right?_

“Hmm. This will hurt then.” She pulled a small bottle of ale from underneath and poured that over his hands. His fingers shook and she watched him, waiting for him to react. It took a moment. He was supposed to do something, supposed to _feel_ something. Stinging? Pain? Burning? But it was too hot.

“It’s hot.”

“Hot? Well that’s unexpected. I suppose it can feel like burning.”

“No.” He huffed and pulled his collar loose. “Its… hot here.”

“Here?”

Raleigh looked around, grabbed his water skin and took a gulp.

“Maybe you ought to take a bath. You’re filthy. The water will cool you too.”

For a moment he panted and looked her way. “Yes.” He agreed and jumped off, marching before going back and securing the horses. She was following him.  There was a stream nearby. The others had used it to bathe last night while he had collected water for the horses. He was sprinting at first and then slowing the further away he got from her.  The cool of the morning air returning until he heard her stepping closer.

His neck burned with her gaze. “What?” He looked behind him.

“Are you going to get in?” The she-dwarf asked and pointed at the stream.

 _Was he here for a bath?_ _No_. He was here to drive the carriage to the Chateau. He’s made the trip before, dozens of times.

He shook his head and turned back to the carriage. His spine shuddered as he passed her again.  It burned his eyes, tears and heat tracking down his cheeks. When she spoke, she spoke fire, breathed it in his direction.

“Aren’t you going to bathe?”

“No. I drive the carriage.” He nodded and went back. He should brush the horses. Raleigh needed to brush the horses. He nodded and went to grab the brush.

“You’ve already done that. Thrice now.”

He snapped up and looked at the dwarf, who looked refreshed and cleaned. The others were packing up and cramming into the carriage. The sun was higher up now and his stomach rumbled.

“Here.” She shoved a bucket of water at him and what looked like a bar of soap. “You stink. Bathe before we head off. You’ll feel better with less filth on you.” She stated and it was like a firewall. He flinched, feeling licks of flames. _Was she a mage?_ No. She’s a dwarf, she can’t be.

The brisk morning air calmed him, cooling him.  He wiped his sweat off and eyed the water.  When did he grow a beard? He did use it to clean up, quick like behind a tree as the others packed the tent away.  He switched out his clothes. He didn’t remember packing clothes for himself. There were a lot of things he didn’t remember now, not since the lyrium.

Raleigh dried off and pulled fresh clothes on.  He collected more water for the horses later and then began driving. It was quiet, even the passengers were quiet but there was faint murmurings.

Why was he here? He was here to drive the carriage to the Chateau. He reminded himself with a nod. He’s made the trip before, dozens of times.

 

* * *

 

 _Dear Prudence. Won't you come out to play._ Lena sang in her head as she stared at the woman. They were both morning people.  The others were asleep.  Athenril, Denier, Dip, and Faith. It was her and Prudence.

“Do you mind if I call you Prue?” Lena asked, breaking the silence between them. Prudence was still crossstitching, but she looked up at her and that smile perched up.

“Only if I can call you Lena.”

“I insist.”

“Really? I seem to hear quite a fuss about you wishing to be called _Madame_ Lena.” Prudence smiled at her.

Selena squinted. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Someone who talks when paid and is silent when paid.” Prue shrugged and continued her design. Lena didn’t cross stitch. She could sew her buttons back on so she had no idea what the woman was doing.

Lena frowned, knowing who she was talking about. “What exactly has he been telling you?”

“Not much. We only meet when he has a new book idea.  It has been quite some time since he published.” Prue’s voice was soft and congenial. She never raised her voice, and never once displayed anything but a collected calmness.

“Why’s that?”

Prue shrugged. “I would not know.”

With a scowl, she crossed her arms. “What, do I have to pay you?”

“If you wish to.” Prue offered in that same tone. “I have no idea why he stopped publishing. I am so pleased that he is again. He is the least annoying writer I have ever dealt with.  His works contain so few grammatical and punctuation errors in the first draft. We can usually publish after the eighth.”

Lena blinked, incredulous. “The _eighth_?”

“The eighth what?” Prue questioned with a too perfect smile.

Lena squinted. “The eighth draft?”

“Yes. Tethras’s stories are intriguing but they lack a certain suspension of belief. Of course I also have to fact check.”

“You fact check?” Exactly how does someone fact check in a world before the internet? Lena squinted. “How do you do that?”

“I used to procure many things for the Coterie, information being one of them. There is so much information available everywhere. You have to know where to look.” Prue smiled a hair too wide, eyes a bit too bright, and despite the raised cheeks there was no crinkling at the edges of her lids.

“Right.” Lena wanted to shudder and run away. It was like the caverns again but it wasn’t dark. Prue was not _normal_ and she couldn’t quite place what it was.

They lapsed into silence again. Lena pulled out her ledger and went over the numbers again. They stopped for midday meal.  Prudence did not join them, like yesterday. Instead she had her meal in the carriage.  When they asked her to join them she looked up at the sky and shook her head with that eerie smile.

“It looks like rain.” Came her soft reply.

It didn’t look like rain to Lena. The sky was clear and the wind smelled fresh.

“Sure thing Prudence.” Denier chuckled and waved her off, sitting on the blanket he had laid out. They were having cold cut sandwiches with the cured ham and apples and grapes. Lena had brought a bundle of oranges. They were tiny things. She could hold three in each palm. They weren’t juicy but it was the pulp and vitamin C she wanted.

“She’s a bit… off.” Lena muttered low to Denier.

“Who?” Denier asked between mouthfuls of bread.

“Denier, slow down. You’ll choke.” Serendipity tutted at her lover.

“Prudence.” Lena looked at the carriage where Prue was seen. Samson was also on his bench, eating his own sandwich and apple. He looked a lot cleaner, if a bit scruffy. “There’s something...wrong about her.”

“Aww, is little Lena jealous of her lover’s editor?” Adriano teased.

“No.” Lena glared.

“It sounds like you are. She is quite fetching.” Adriano looked to Prudence and smiled. “It’s a pity she’s married, so nothing for you to worry about.”

“Marriage never stops anyone.” Denier snickered.

“Is she weird to you?” Lena asked Athenril who had sat, instead opting to lean against a tree and looking out at the other camp sites.

Athenril passed a look toward Prudence and frowned. “She’s weird. But that’s how she’s always been.”

Lena frowned. _Why was no one else seeing it?_

They were replenishing the water and waiting for Samson to finish checking the horses again when rolling clouds blocked the sun.

“Huh.” She looked up as Prudence came out of the carriage with an oil slick cloak and handed it to Samson. She then walked back to the carriage and sat in her seat. Lena noticed another thing that was off.  Her feet.  The way her skirts raised and showed her shoes was wrong.  The skirts should raise at her knees but they rose behind her, like her legs were inverted.

Lena shivered when the first drops of rain came down. Everyone made a mad dash to their carriage. Samson had already thrown the oil slick cloak on. She didn’t want to sit in the carriage with whatever Prudence was, so she sat next to Samson, sharing his cloak and pressed tight against him.

The ride the rest of the way was jerky and slow thanks to the rain and slippery roads. Several times she caught Samson looking at her, bewildered before she had to remind him to keep driving. She pitied him. The lyrium withdrawal was not doing him any favors.

By the time they reached the Chateau, his hands were shaking and his breath haggard.

“Hey. Samson.” She called to get his attention as Denier and Adriano were unloading their bags to their assigned rooms. The Chateau was huge, considering it was a former fortress.  It had more than enough rooms to house them. Though all the women would be in one room and the men in the other next door. Serendipity knew her way around and led them in while Lena tried to bring Samson out of whatever daze he was in.

“Raleigh.” She whispered, aware of the location of his sword at his feet. “You need to take care of the horses. The stables are over there.” She tried to touch his arm but he snapped and threw her back against the bench and eyed her.

Lena yelped as a hand grabbed Samson’s arm and forced him back.  It was Prudence. Her gaze was dark and she had a frown on. It chilled her, making the early spring rain frigid. The air around them cold. She could even feel frost forming underneath her as she flailed to sit up. Her feet slipped.

“Raleigh Samson, you know better than to hurt her.” Prudence whispered and she said something lower and closer to him. Lena froze as something chittered and creaked underneath them. It slopped and slid and Prudence smiled again, her oily lips stretched. There was a shimmer of something in her mouth, flashes of sharp teeth and then it was her tongue.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You need to take care of the horses.” Prudence explained. Samson nodded.

“I have to drive the carriage to the Chateau. I’ve made the trip before, dozens of times.” Samson spoke, brows furrowed.

“Yes. We’re at the Chateau. Now you have to take care of the horses. Then you should go to bed. It’s been a _long_ day. You’re _very_ sleepy.” Prudence insisted and Samson nodded, shuffling out of his seat.

The rain pelted down around them as Prudence straightened. Samson had taken the oil slick cloak with him, leaving Lena and Prudence unprotected from the elements. But that didn’t matter because Lena wasn’t drenched as they were shielded from the rain by a faint shimmering barrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never did get to write a "Halloween" chapter. Guess I'll just have to make it up by making creepy situations _extra_ creepy. 
> 
> HUGE THANKS TO Spellweaver, LonelyAgain, and Mayamelissa. They helped me out again this chapter. I swear they are just my personal cheerleaders and editors & sounding boards sometimes! :D
> 
> Some background information so you guys know what to expect for the next couple chapters. The Tourney that is happening is NOT the Grand Tourney. It is a Kirkwall Regional Tourney. The last Grand Tourney happened in 9:25 over the course of four days. The Melee, Jousting, and Archery events are the main events and they happen midway. The Grand Tourney happens every 1,000 days as can be inferred by the Codex Entry for [The Celebrant](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/The_Celebrant). 
> 
> This coincides with a special calendar LonelyAgain and I have created, though we're using slightly different ones for variety for our two stories, that have the Grand Tourney happening when both moons are full, which only happens every 1,000 days. Though there are 4 times both moons are full in that year. It's a complicated calendar but it works! 
> 
> Anyway, the Tourney is the main event but people plan parties and events around it. The winner of this past Grand Tourney's Jousting event was Reeve Asa. You may recognize the name as the one Jouster Varric is a fan of (noted in party banter with Blackwall). Now if you'll recall however, Varric's mother died in 9:26. My headcanon is that Grand Tourney was the last one Varric attended with his mother, whilst she was sick. (Also note the current year is 9:27.)


	36. Chateau Haine, 1st Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night of _Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine_ starts off very subtly.

Prudence didn’t say anything once Samson calmed down. She didn’t do anything except give Lena a heart attack as she leant forward and grabbed Samson’s sword from the bench. She handed it to the former templar, who strapped it to his back. With a pleased, if chilling, smile Prue made her way toward one of the wings of the Fortress. Lena gave a steadying breath but followed. The other carriages were being settled and their passengers ushered quickly into other towers.

“You have your own room.” Athenril told Lena as she entered the southernmost wing of Fortress Haine.  They had arrived in the Fortress through the main gates and had been directed through the bailey. The bailey wrapped around the inner walls that surrounded the Keep but it led them through where the stables were houses. There were temporary structures built so as to accommodate the sheer amount of other carriages and horses that would be arriving. There was a line of other carriages arriving, though most had already parked, sending their horses to the stables.  The fortress was larger than Lena remembered it in game. She could make out some of the other towers in the night rain but she couldn’t truly appreciate the grandness of the stonework or architecture until daylight. The dual waning crescent moons gave little light as it was, even less so from behind the thundering dark storm clouds that pelted the Fortress in rain.

Suffice to say, Selena was ready for bed.  Only she thought she’d be in one room with the others.

“What? Why do I get my own room?”

“You’re here in Madam Lusine’s place.” Prudence chimed in, though her voice was not as pleasant. “Lusine is the fourth daughter from the Tristheur Family.  They are nobility of Kirkwall.  As she sent you as her proxy, you will be staying in her assigned apartment.”

Lena shifted away from her as she passed into the corridor, a candelabra coming to life as one the Chateau’s servants led them through. The corridor was carpeted and extravagant decor and furnishings.  Every windowed alcove they passed had seating and a brazier that could be lit for warmth.

Prudence told the servant where Lena was to be escorted to instead. Prudence had given Lena a copy of the itinerary that afternoon, but she had not had the time to pull out her glasses to actually read it. She supposed having her own apartment would mean she’d have a little bit more privacy.

The assigned apartment was not as lavish as Lena had thought. Lena didn’t get much of a look at the sitting room because of the dark, just enough to find the bedroom and that was it.  With her lockbox down by her bag, she took stock of the room. The hearth was empty making the room dark.  The stone walls clung to the damp cold and turned the room frigid.  Lena could about see her breath as she shuffled to the stack of fresh logs and set them into the hearth.  She lit them with some kindling, flint, and steel. Selena had never had to use such things back home but being here in Thedas for this many months has made her used to it, though it did still take six times to get it just right.  If only she had matches.

“Note to self, invent matches.” She grumbled as she rubbed her fingers to sooth striking them against the steel. As the flames grew, the light filled the room.

The bed was larger than any she’s slept on, larger than the one Varric had but it was to be expected as it was made for humans and not tiny dwarf lasses. Lena pouted and glared at the bed. It was almost as tall as her.  She’d need a stepping stool, or something to get on top of it otherwise she’d be floundering to get up and get out.

There was an assortment of decor, Lena paid little to except for the rug by the bed. At least she wouldn't be waking and putting her feet onto a cold stone floor. The apartment also held another smaller bedroom that Athenril took for herself.  It was meant for a chambermaid instead of a hired guard, but it would do. It was off to the side, the door hidden from view behind an armoire in the main sitting room.

Lena glared at the fire, willing it to spread its warmth to the room and eventually the bed but it would take time. Huffing, she went out to the sitting room, seeing Athenril going about the room, lifting things in the dark.

“What are you doing?”

“You traipsed in here without so much as letting me do my job.” Athenril muttered. At Lena’s blank look she let out a breath. “Checking for traps.”

“Isn’t the Fortress Haine filled with traps?”

“It is, but those are complex and meant to deter those from coming in. You are already in, I’m looking for traps meant to keep you in. Thus far it is fine, though I wouldn’t attempt to lift any of the busts.”

“Why?”

“Last I was here, I knocked one over and it revealed a hidden doorway. Who is to say it won’t reveal a hidden hole to fall through?” Athenril looked the picture of serious.

Lena rubbed her arms as she watched Athenril work and check over her room as well, pulling the shawl she had packed closer. “It’s freezing in here, let's take a walk while the fire heats this place up.”

“Should you not also light the fire in sitting room?” Athenril pointed to the hearth. Glaring, she did it as well, or tried to before Athenril grabbed the flint and steel and did it for her. Athenril set the fire grate, to make sure no embers spread, which prompted Lena to do the same in her room and then they were off into the dark corridors.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Honestly, don’t care.  Maybe back outside.  At least it was warmer out there.” Lena grumbled. She was tired, so used to now going to sleep at a decent hour most days. By her internal clock, and the look of the sky, it was well past sunset. Athenril nodded and led her back outside, stepping into alcoves as servants led other guests to their room. Even the servants looked exhausted and cold.

Once back outside, the rain was less heavy and had slowed to a light drizzle. But it was the wind, sending chills and frosting some of the water into slush on the ground.

“Winter’s last gasp.” Denier grouched between puffs from a pipe in his hands. “Damn this cold.”

“You can say that again.  Isn’t it supposed to be mid spring?” Lena shuffled closer to her brother-in-spirit. Dwarven girth and size lended itself to being warmer when huddled close.

“It is.  The cold may also have something to do with us being up in a mountain.”

“Bleh, higher altitudes.” Lena grumbled, her nose scrunched as Denier blew out smoke. “What in the Ancestors are you smoking?” She glowered and coughed as the smoke got too close. “You’re smoking tobacco!” Lena snatched the pipe and was just about to upend it when Denier snatched it back.

“What do you think you’re doing! That’s imported from _Tevinter._ That’s expensive tabacas, you fool.” Denier smacked her hand and held the pipe away.

“That stuff is _toxic_ for your lungs.” Lena growled.

“Says who?” Denier glared as he pulled again.

“Says-” She bit her tongue, she couldn’t very well tell him _who_ said it’s bad. A team of human scientific researchers and doctors proving tobacco was bad for your lungs and increased your chances of lung cancer, wouldn’t go over well in Thedas.  So she took an alternate route. “Anything that smells that bad, _can’t_ be good for you. Ugh.”  She waved her hand in front of her face and shifted away from Denier. “Plus I’m allergic.” She snapped, already feeling her eyes water.

“You’re _allergic_?” Denier gaped and shifted back away from her, killing the burning plant. “Shit, sorry Selena.”

“Thank you.” She muttered as he slid the pipe away. after a few moments of silence she shifted close to him again despite the smell of tobacco. “It is so much warmer out here than the room.”

“That it is.” Denier smirked. “And we get to see the chickens scurry.”

“Huh?” Lena looked at him but he pointed out where other carriages were tucked away and horses stabled. “What about them?”

“We’re going to be making a lot of coin this week if we play our cards right, heh.” Denier muttered. “That’s the de Launcets carriage. Next to them is the Harimanns and La Foixs.”  Denier muttered as he pointed to each carriage. “Nobility of Kirkwall. The de Launcet’s daughters Babette and Fifi usually only sneak away to visit the Rose when their parents are off on holiday.  The Harimanns son is quite charitable if you _stroke_ his _ego_.”

“Really? I imagine any one of us can do that easy.”

“I don’t mean that figuratively.” Denier grinned.

“So you mean if we boost his _pride_?”

“Yes. You’ve got to get creative though, he knows when you’re _faking_ it.”

“I can’t tell if you two are being perverse or not.” Athenril grumbled.

“Assume we are.” Denier chuckled.

“What about that carriage?” Lena pointed to one carriage. It was a carriage that stood out amongst the gloom of the others, as it was bright white with red accents. Its banner had a red circle with a black design replicated three times in that circle.  “Whose family is that?”

Denier squinted. “Huh, I don’t recognize them.”

“Could they be foreign?” Lena whispered as another servant and guests made their way through.  She recognized the guests from Hightown markets. She guessed merchants would be staying in their wing.

“Could be. Duke Prosper is Orlesian and friends to the Empress.”

“Athenril do you recognize that banner?” Lena asked the elf, who shook her head.  Her hand was held on her visible sword the entire time, the other gripped her cane.

“Honestly.” Serendipity came out to join them. “I was waiting for you to come back so we could go to bed.” She hissed at Denier.  “A full night’s sleep ahead of us for once and you’re out here in the rain.” Denier gave a grunt.

“We’re watching the others arrive.” Lena explained. “Trying to figure out what nobles we’ll be earning from.”

“Well I can tell you right now I’m only here for one man.” Serendipity grinned as she looked across the way to the white carriage. “Him.” She grinned as the person who climbed out was a red haired, dark toned regal faced man.  Lena caught a glimpse of him before his hood was up and he rushed to the inner keep.

“What's so special about him?”

“That, my little Dwarven minx, is Goran Vael. He's royalty.” Dip sighed. “Or...just about. He's the cousin to the Prince of Starkhaven, 4th in line to the throne. He _always_ comes to the Wyvern hunt.” Lena perked up.  What was Sebastian’s cousin doing here, so close to Kirkwall?

“Wait...if he’s here.” Lena trailed off as she felt a memory tickle the back of her head out of reach.  Why would any of the Vael Family, besides Sebastian, be anywhere near Kirkwall?

She looked at Denier. “What noble families did you say were here?”

“The de Launcets, the Harimanns, La Foix, from what I can see here. Likely many have already arrived and will yet arrive in the morning for the Chant.” Denier reiterated.

“The Cavins and du Morts won't arrive until Monday. I hear some Ferelden nobility were invited as well.” Serendipity smiled, a calculating look in her eye.

“You want a piece of the pot.” Denier rolled his eyes.

“I can't help it if men find me _charming_ as a woman.” Serendipity fluttered her eyelashes.

“I'd be willing to bet some _women_ find you alluring as well as a woman.” Lena added.

“Look at that. Even your sister finds me attractive.” Dip grinned and draped herself over Lena’s shoulders.

“I wouldn't be sleeping with you if I didn't find you attractive.” Denier grumped and pulled her to him. The two kissing. Lena snickered, turning away to give them privacy in their romance. She caught Athenril’s eye and waved out toward the rest of the fortress.

“You two better get to bed and enjoy the long night while you can.” She shuffled off as Denier agreed with her. He hefted Dip in his arms and carried the elven drag queen back into the wing.

“Where do you want to go?” Athenril asked.

“How well do you know the fortress?”

“I came here with Harlan and Lusine two years ago. Harlan wanted me to find any treasure…” Athenril trailed off.

“I imagine that must have been hard with all the traps.”

“Yes. It's impregnable for a reason. I don't recommend the dungeons.” Athenril shrugged.

“Do you happen to know if there is a Chapel?”

The Chapel was located in the inner keep, away from the main tower. They transferred from the Chapel inside the keep to an off room, glass panes and all, when the Fortress switched from being a military installment into the pleasure palace of today. Getting to the Chapel meant getting access through the inner walls. The usual route was the main gates, with stations guards that let in only those of noted nobility and royalty.  But Athenril knew a way in through the kitchens. There were elves still up and preparing the ingredients for the human servants to cook in the morning. Their tired faces gaunt and hollowed in the darkened kitchens.

“Huh.” Lena muttered as Athenril said a few words in Orlesian and they were let through.

“Why do you want to go to the Chapel?”

“I have a confession to make.” Lena responded. She didn't want to say the real reason, otherwise there would be questions and dot connections made.  Instead she stayed silent and followed Athenril.  They slipped toward the inner courtyard and into the garden.  Lena could spot the Chapel. Even with as little light as there was, it still glittered with golden adornments. There was some sort of enchantment on the glass panes because the rising sun depiction shone in shimmering haloed waves.

“Wait out here.” Lena slipped into the Chapel, leaving behind Athenril. Yet unbeknownst to her, the elf followed after her clinging to the shadows. There was rows of candles at the altar, the bowl of fires Andraste sat in was large but the flames were but embers. The confessionals were inlaid in the stone, but that wasn’t what she was looking for.  Usually the small chapels in Fortresses had a dormitory for the members of their flock. If Sebastian _had_ been invited and was coming, he’d be there. Unless he was with his cousin, but she doubted that as she would have seen someone else come out of that carriage. No, she had a gut feeling he was nearby.

Now that she was in the Chapel, she was rewarded for going on her instinct. Lena’s lips perked up. There was Sebastian with his head bent muttering the chant with fevor as his shoulders slumped with his back tense with strain. His hair was mussed as though he had ran his hand through it too often. His brows were wrinkled in worry, and his lips had never been more deeply set.  He wore a simple robe which appeared wrinkled from being tossed on the floor and hastily worn.

“Sebastian.” But he didn’t respond to her gentle call, so she stepped toward him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He turned, shocked.

“Mam-Madame River.” The wrinkles smoothed back as a weight lifted off his shoulders by her presence for a moment as he called to her but only remembered himself before he slipped up. “I didn’t know you would be attending the Hunt and Tourney.”

“Neither did I until about two hours before I had to leave.” Lena smirked.

“I had assumed you would remain in Kirkwall. Are you accompanying Madam Lusine?” Sebastian asked low.

“Sadly, Madam Lusine couldn’t make it. So she sent me as her proxy.”

“Did she now?” Sebastian smiled. “Then am I right to assume, you will be _working_ for the duration of the tourney?” The little cheeky sod had a mischievous hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Who is to say I’m not working now?” Lena gave a grin. “You look like you could use my services.” There was a pause, Sebastian’s eyes flitted closed a moment before he sent her a pleading look. He did look like he needed some help relaxing.

“I… it is a bit earlier than my usual appointment.”  Sebastian phrased with caution, his gaze turned toward the Sisters who were praying. He considered it and then with a lowered voice, “If you would wait a moment over there.” He gestured toward one of the smaller altars by the wall.

“Don’t keep me waiting for long.” Lena smiled and meandered toward the altar. It was another statue of Andraste, but this time the stone was actually on fire but not leaving burning marks. The embers in the bowl were not actually embers but appeared that way.  Instead they were small glowing blue stones that gave off a flame.  The flame wasn’t even hot as Lena stuck her finger in it.

“Confessions, huh?” Athenril whispered from behind Lena.

“I told you to wait outside.” Lena spun.

“I have never seen you actively opt to go to the Chantry, unless you were accompanying Tethras or Denier.” Athenril squinted. “Who is this Brother that you want to see him _specifically_?”

“It’s none of your business.” She hissed.

“You brought me as your bodyguard, I should know. What if he’s dangerous?” Athenril grinned.

“I hardly think a Brother of the Chantry is dangerous.” Lena rolled her eyes.

“You and I know different Chantries.” Athenril frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lena glared, but curious. Athenril opened her mouth to respond but a distant door opened. “Shit, later.  Go go.  Get out.” She hissed and pushed Athenril to the door.

“I’m going.” Athenril glowered but stepped away and disappeared through the Chapel doors as a side door opened up behind one of the curtains. A hand pushed the curtain off the wall and there was Sebastian, who pressed a single finger to his lips.

The secret passage was narrow, but Lena looked to make sure none of the sisters were looking before following Sebastian through.

“The flock at the Chateau all have their own private rooms in the dormitory. I have my own apartment. Thus we will have privacy and be alone.” Sebastian explained as they pressed close in the passage. Lena snorted.

“So have I.”

“You have?” Sebastian blinked and looked back toward the passage. “Should we go to your-”

“We’re halfway to yours. Lets just go.”

Sebastian faltered a moment before continuing forward. The passage had another secret door into a corridor outside the dormitories. They waited as a pair of sisters moved past and then they headed out, Sebastian light footed and Lena bumbling behind him as she hefted her skirts up and _tried_ to be quiet but luck was on their side as no one noticed them. Or because it was late in the evening.

When they came upon an elaborate door, Sebastian opened it with a key and they ducked in. The room was well lit and ornate decor. Rich red curtains and rugs, a couch with too many pillows. There was a table laden with a small feast of a roast and an assortment of vegetables, bread, soup, and a bowl of fruit.

“Extravagant.” Lena’s gaze zeroed on the food and the bottles of wine. Her stomach clenched, greedy and gluttonous. “Why were you assigned this room?”

“It’s due to my parentage they gave me this room.” Sebastian muttered as he crossed the room toward another door. “Please, help yourself.  I need to fetch something.”

“Don’t tell me that, Vael. I will eat an entire plate.” Lena smiled but approached the food anyway.

“You do have a sizable appetite.”

“I’ve got all kinds of appetites.” She grinned and froze upon seeing the two place settings, with utensils and cups. “Were you expecting someone else?” It was the first time she’d seen them on Thedas and it was a welcome change. She grabbed the plate and helped herself to a serving and feeling table manners she hadn’t utilized came back to her, she sat and cut the food and ate with the fork and knife.

“These were meant to be Elthina’s quarters and…” Sebastian came out with a parchment but paused upon catching sight of Lena sitting at the table.  Her table manners and etiquette of eating with the Orlesian utensils was perfect.  It appeared even natural for her to use them. It was unusual to see a dwarf so well practiced as even those that resided in Orlais struggled in mixed company. “Sister Petrice.”

“What?” Selena looked up at him at the name.

“There are two bedrooms attached to this room. Normally, Elthina and Petrice attend the annual Wyvern Hunt and Gala, unless otherwise engaged but…” Sebastian frowned.

“But as Petrice is no longer with us, so she sent you instead?”

“Yes.” Sebastian frowned. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before sitting. “I have prayed for her soul everyday, Mama.”

“I wouldn’t waste it. She was an abuser and likely would have destroyed more than your life.” Lena sliced the roast and set up Sebastian’s plate, serving him a large helping of food.

“Thank you but I am not hungry.” He muttered.

“I’m not giving you a choice. You’ll eat and be a good boy.” _Mama_ Lena pinned him with a look that said he was not to disobey.

“I know of women and men who were similar to Petrice.”  Lena explained as she cut into the roast with some difficulty.  The table was taller than her and she had to drag her chair over and stand on it to reach. Sebastian made to grab the knife and do it, but she smacked his hand away.  “People like Petrice abuse and take and take, expecting everyone else to bow to their wishes. They don’t realize the damage they’ve done. And even if they do or are told of it, they are unapologetic and victim blame instead of taking responsibility.”  Lena managed to completely break the roast into slices. “Don’t waste your breath or your thoughts on her.”

“I understand that but...Elthina remained behind in Kirkwall because she has petitioned the Guards to investigate her disappearance.” Sebastian explained, stressing the importance. “I worry there may be evidence to implicate you or me in her-”

“Timely demise.” Lena frowned. “They won’t find her body though.”

“How can you be so sure? We dumped it down a dry well? All it takes is for it to rain - like it has today for a few hours and-”

“The remains are completely destroyed.” Lena waved.

“What?” Sebastian gaped.

“No one will ever find anything of Petrice now. And the next time it rains for a few days, the only thing they will find is a well full of soapy tan water.” Lena shrugged. She had sacrificed three barrels of her lye solution but over the course of a couple of nights she dumped the lye into the dry well. It smelled but it was no worse than the smell Kirkwall pervaded. Indeed, Varric had taken care of the bloody robes, curtain, and rug by sending it to the Undertakers but she knew what to do with the body and she had the means. Only she wasn’t so stupid to do it in a bathtub that would dissolve with the solution.

“How?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Bassy.  Is this why you looked ready to pass out sick?” Lena scrutinized him. “What do you have to worry about? You’re innocent in this. Unless you decided to rat me out, you’ve got nothing to fret over.” Lena gave him a sharp look.

“No! I would never.  After everything you’ve done for me… I couldn’t.” Sebastian spoke aghast at the notion.  He sunk into his chair. “I was worried more for your sake.”

“Don’t be worried. You’ll make your hair grey.”

“Mama...you defended me and took great risks to ensure _my_ safety and freedom. _I owe you my life._ ” Sebastian plead across the table, meeting her gaze. He was unsurprised when a pulse shimmered between them. Lena however furrowed her brows, shivering. “If the guard finds anything implicating you I’ll-”

“Keep your mouth shut, that’s what you’ll do. If they do find anything on me, and they won’t, they have _no_ _way_ to tie it to me.” Lena jabbed the fork at the air. “Understand?”

“Yes.” Sebastian mumbled.

“Good.” Lena gave a nod and sat back down to eat. For a moment it was tense silence until Sebastian began eating.

“Where did you learn such etiquette?” Sebastian broke the silence.

Lena was mid way chewing when she squinted at him. She swallowed, “Uhh, I don’t remember. My parents taught us as we were raised?”

“Raised? You mean your parents taught you to use a fork and knife as a babe?”

“No…not when when I was a baby. I used a spoon first, then a fork and then a knife. I wasn’t very good at first as I was messy eater. But I supposed it improved when my penmanship did.” Lena shrugged. “I might be a bit rusty though.  Haven’t seen a fork in months.”  She lifted it.  It was the little things she didn’t realize she’d miss that made her homesick.

Sebastian watched the forlorn expression flit over her before she tightened her lips and kept eating.

“If you don’t mind my asking. When might be your birthday?” Sebastian asked.

“My birthday it’d be…” Lena trailed off. When would have been her birthday? It was nine months since she arrived but if that was true, she’d missed it. The difference in dates, month names, and the placement of holidays threw her off. But if it had been almost ten months since she came then she’d missed it. “I uh… don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“We have different month names back home…” Truthfully, it wouldn’t be the first time she’s forgotten her birthday, to let the day come and pass without ever really paying attention. It was something that started happening ever since she turned twenty-five and now as she got closer and closer to thirty she tried to forget it. Especially here in Thedas. It represented how long she’s been away from home, from her family, and from her friends. She did some quick math. “Haring...sixteen.” The thought left her bitter and sad, though no tears burned at her eyes.  Instead a weight settled in her stomach. Her twenty-eighth birthday had come and gone and she hadn’t even acknowledged it. She can only imagine the sorrow and grief her family had gone through when it came.

Sebastian rose from the table, drawing her from her thoughts. “One moment.” He muttered to her as he left her at the table alone. He returned with a single white arrow and presented it to her. “Consider it a late birthday present.”

“An arrow?”

“I give this to you with the expectation that you will return it to me when I ask.” Sebastian spoke.

“Okay? Not much of a present but why?”

“This arrow will be my winning shot at the Contest of Arms for Archery.”

Lena blinked and looked at the arrow closer, turning it in her hands and examining it. The shaft of the arrow shaft was light wood. The crest was adorned in the colors of the Vael Family, red and black. The fletchling used a dark feather with red edges, Lena couldn’t quite figure out what bird it may have been from. The arrowhead or point was blunted and not sharp, but going at the speeds it would - she wouldn’t doubt the pain it would cause.

“You want me to return this back to you?” Lena squinted.

“Yes.”

“At the Tourney?”

“Yes.”

“What if I’m not going?” Lena squinted. Sebastian smiled, smug as he lowered himself to one knee. Lena flailed and leant back but he grabbed one of her hands and stared up at her.

“Dare I say, I think you will be going now.  I call you my closest _friend_ and it would mean much to me if you were there.” Sebastian held her hand.

Lena was speechless, staring at his hand. Sebastian lowered his gaze as Lena still said nothing. He gave a shuddering breath as though about to cry and peered up at her through his lashes, a pout on his lips.

“But I do understand if you will be too busy to attend. I know you will be working-”

“Oh poppycock, you little shit. You _know_ I’ll show.” Lena exasperated and smacked Sebastian’s hand as he laughed. She tried to push him back to throw him off balance but he rolled away. “Naughty boys get spanked.”

“And I have been especially naughty.” Sebastian grinned.

“I don’t have any of my belts or riding crop.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“I guess I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.” Lena grinned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so... This chapter and the next ~~12~~ 24+ are all going to be at Chateau Haine. Yes. That's right. Six Days and Seven nights at Chateau Haine, just like the Summary says! Be prepared for shenanigans, smut, hunting, partying, and a hefty dose of plot, sub arcs, and cameos. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter: You won't believe who you'll see next at CHATEAU HAINE!**


	37. Chateau Haine, 1st Day pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first morning of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine starts off with a bang with a couple of cameos!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look! A Double Update! Haven't seen one of those in a while!

On the outskirts of the surrounding forests of the once Fortress Haine, a lone late carriage was stopped on the drying path in the early morning. The expansive forest was alive with movement and activity. He expected it to be the wyverns as they moved into their mating season but there was something sinister lurking in the depths of the forest. A specific sort of creature that drew a single figure from the carriage.  His hood drawn, his shield at his back.

He gazed out into the forests with a long look, seeking out the raid of foul beasts. They were only a few leagues away.  Too close to the oncoming festivities for his liking. They were rising in numbers on the surface, popping up in many places across Thedas. It could be a few growing raids but he did not believe that. He feared worse.  No one wanted to say it. No one wanted to say the word. It had been so long.

He stepped a few feet shy of the edge of the forest and looked around, drawing his hood back. A man of Rivaini descent with a single earring and a full well groomed beard. His dark hair streaked with gray hairs and the wrinkles indicative of his age.

A shriek in the distance had him pushing his robe back, revealing his bastard sword at his hip.  He held the pommel, ready to attack. The sun was rising up over the trees, the light glinting off his silverite armor that contrasted with his dark chainmail. The dark azure and brown of his leather skirt parted as he crouched waiting. But the raid moved, their movements directed too close to the local village.

“Is everything alright?” Came a blonde haired man from the carriage as he pushed the curtain. He appeared tired, having been roused from their tent to get back into the carriage quickly.

“I do not know.” The roguish warrior spoke. He gave another look out into the forest. “Go on ahead, your majesty. I will be there to join you for tomorrow’s wyvern hunt as promised.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“I will hold you to your promise, Duncan. I have been looking forward to fighting and slaying a wyvern at the side of a Grey Warden all season.”

Duncan sighed but smiled. “I will not miss it.” He watched as the carriage went along the path toward the once Fortress Haine. It would be safer there for them. He waited for the carriage to disappear from his sights before turning back to the Wyvern hunting grounds. Darkspawn showing up here was unusual but not unfamiliar.

He pulled his shield from his back holster and his sword from its scabbard. The enchantment lighting with his intent and he entered the fortress, ready for any number of creatures.

 

* * *

 

 

Sebastian woke the next morning in Lena’s arms, his head rested against her bare breast.  Careful so as not to jostle her slumber, he pulled the sheets back allowing him to slide out of the bed. He did not count on revealing how naked Lena actually was. He was so used to her keeping her smalls and breast band on during their weekly sessions he hadn’t expected to be confronted with her nudity. He directed his gaze down but could not help the instantaneous reaction of his manhood hardening.

Madame Selena was the picture of beauty and the ideal woman, even as a dwarf.  Her bosoms were large and soft, not hardened and taut against her form. Her skin was free of scars.  Her stomach pouch hung forward, hips and waist pudged with excess from being fed well and often. She was plump with far more to grab onto than any commoner had; inspiring images of holding onto her tight while lost to lustful abandon. She drew the eye of every man - and indeed many women - wherever she walked. Certain parts of her quivered, enticing the imaginations of many a sinful man and some not so sinful ones as well.  Nobles wished to possess and commoners wished for a taste, up until they realized she was a dwarf. The ideal noblewoman where you found warmth and acceptance in her embrace.

Such a wasted opportunity for them, but one Sebastian took full use of.  Yet he was not the only one.  Messere Tethras certainly had her attentions, and indeed her trust. While he was merely her patron and friend, they could never be more.  Even he knew that.  She mothered him, even outside their sessions. Yet it was more than alright for him.

The sky was still dark, if the windows were any indication. He spotted the setting Satina on the horizon. Dawn was near but first bell would not be until two hours after that. Then the first chants would begin and he was to attend them.  But there was excess time affording him the luxury of slipping a robe on to warm some water.  While not enough time to warm a bath it was enough to allow both of them to wash off their activities.

The feast from the night before was still on the table, but the chairs were tipped over.

_Sebastian grit his teeth as the hand came down again on his arse, his night trousers around his ankles and the robe hiked up, leaving him exposed.  He prostrated himself over Mama’s lap, arse begging with each sway for a well timed smack. Though the flesh of his cheeks were bright red, he wanted more. Maker help him the pain was intoxicating, especially as her other hand pinched around his aching cock, preventing him from release whilst sliding up and down at a crawling painstaking pace._

_He was sweating now as Mama rubbed his arsecheek to soothe the pain but he growled, wanting - needing the pain. “Mama, please.”_

_“Only if you’re naughty.” She responded. “You’ve been good and obedient, I may even let you cum.”_

He blinked at his growing affliction and shook his memories of the night away. He went to the water closet outside his aparts and returned with two buckets of water that he dumped into the cauldron in the hearth.  He did it twice more. He was sure a servant was meant to do this but the Tourney was likely occupying their minds, so he was more than willing to do so himself.

He returned to an elven servant pouring the water that had boiled into a tub.

“Oh that is not necessary.” He tried to tell them but they bowed low.  The tub was filled with far more water than he had collected and it was steaming.  The water would have taken much longer to boil to that point.

“The Duke wishes to ensure all his guests are well cared for.  I am Trialla. I have brought the tub and filled it so that you and your companion may bath before the Chant.” The servant spoke and raised but did not raise their gaze.

“Ah, thank you.”

“Should you require anything, you need only call my name.”  Trialla gave another bow and walked out.

Sebastian released the breath he was holding. He knew of the secret passages within the walls of the fortress but had never considered there might be servants listening.  Then again the royal palace in Starkhaven also had it’s fair share of hidden corridors and passages. Escape routes should the family need it, but he only remembered the mischief he and his brothers caused when nobility visited.

One time, Lady and Lord Harimann visited and Sebastian recalled filling itching powder in Lady Harimann’s petticoat when she said something particularly vile toward Nan’s cooking. Nan had been with the Vael family for two generations, she was an old and strict woman and was going blind. They’d gotten the Lady good for berating and causing her to cry. She deserved it.

Of course that wasn’t the only time. His brothers and him would enact all sorts of petty revenge, even more so when they befriended a visiting Jenny.  She handed them a particular set of fetching red scarves.  He still had his to this day. Sebastian’s brothers, on the other hand, had grown out of it. Or so they said when they married.

He sighed at the memories.

“What makes my little Prince sighs so?”

Sebastian looked up to see Selena walking out in her dress, pulling her hair back into a bun. Her pet spider, Dopey, crawling slowly up her dress only to perch on top of her bun, it’s spinners weaving a silk webbing to cover her messy bun and catch the occasional fly. He’s seen it work quick and efficient designs into her hair with its webs. While odd, it was by no means unheard off.  Silkworms when properly trained could do the same.  He had no doubt Lena had somehow taught the spider to do that. Though sometimes the spider would glow as blue as the lyrium Lena had been exposed to.

While only a month since her re-appearance, she hadn’t yet returned to how she was before the explosion and exposure to lyrium.  He chalked up her glowing habits to that as he saw no other oddity besides the spiders. Though, the spiders fit her, odd as it was.

“Memories of my childhood.” He responded.

“Aww.”  Lena stepped to him, reaching a hand up. Without being told he lowered himself to let her run her fingers through his hair.  She scratched and rubbed the back of his neck. “Pleasant ones I hope?”

“Yes, of my older brothers.”

“Your brothers, they’re in Starkhaven right?”

“Yes, having designs to visit Starkhaven?”

“And wreak havoc on the socialites? Perish the thought.” Lena snickered. “Just wondering. Someone arrived last night in a carriage with your family crest on it.”

“Ah, that would be cousin Goran.”  Sebastian rolled his eyes. “He attends the Hunt, every year, much to the chagrin of his brother.” He shook his head. “If I have to hear his grousing of losing the Hunt last year, Maker I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re not in the apartments set aside for the Vaels with him?”

“Well. I am not just here at Elthina’s insistence. I… was curious about the hunt.  And I wanted another shot at the Tourney.” Sebastian admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Got a bit of a competitor in you?”

“I did win the Grand Archery in the Grand Tourney in 9:20.” Sebastian boasted, chest puffed with pride.

“You did? Look at you, a fine archer indeed.” Lena snickered. “So why are you competing in the Kirkwall tourney?”

“Ah, it is at an old friend’s insistence.  We have a bit of a bet going.”  Sebastian felt he could admit to this to Lena, knowing she wouldn’t judge. At her laugh, he smirked. “He believes he will best me this time.”

“I’m going to have to get in on this betting then, maybe start a pool with the girls.”  Lena rubbed her chin.

“Ha. Then I will have to introduce you to him after today’s Chants.”

“I look forward to it.  Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” Lena patted. “Now, enjoy your bath, I’ve got to find my way back to Lusine’s apartment.” She was off with a wave.

He supposed it would have been too hopeful for Mama to give him a bath. Her hands rubbing soap against his skin just hours before he has to sing the chant with the choir in front of almost all of the nobility of Kirkwall and many visiting dignitaries. His throat tightened and he rubbed his inner thigh, teasing himself.

Direct contact was lovely but Mama had taught him better, taught him indirect contact agonized him and sent him anticipating. It was wild and left him impatient but then it was all he needed at times now.

Retrieving his soaps, he stripped his robe off and sunk into the bath. The heat rolling into his skin. He bathed first, taking care to clean himself proper. Though his fingers strayed.

_“When you bath next, make sure to clean this proper. I’ve a treat for you.” Lena whispered into his ear, her fingers pumping into his arsehole._

Sebastian shuddered as his own fingers teased his hole, slick with soap.

_“Wh-what is the treat?” He groaned into the sheets, back arching.  She pushed him down into the bed. His sweat slicked body let her other hand explore his taut muscles, made docile by her machinations. She yanked his head back, allowing her to nip at his neck but there would be no marks there. No, Mama always left marks only he would be able to see in the privacy of his bed chambers._

_Though he wondered the scandal if he should walk out with an obvious love bruise into the Chantry. The shame, the looks, the whispers..._

He worked his own arsehole with slow plunges at first, like Mama taught him. Start slow and small and increased the pressure to slid more fingers in. It was made easier with the soap. It was when he worked up to three fingers that he let out a groan. He rubbed against something that had his cock jumping. He did it again. His right hand twitched as he refrained from grabbing his manhood.

_“There are many pressure points on and in the body where you can apply just enough force to feel ecstasy. For instance, here.” Her fingers pressed inside him, his cock leaking as it twitched. “And here…” Her other hand trailed down his back, nails light tickling his spine before the pads of her fingers pressed on his lower back. She gave alternating rubs._

He couldn’t reach his spine but the memory of the light touches had him twitching and squirming.  The water of the bath splashed as his legs spread, allowing him to plunge deeper inside himself. Sebastian closed his eyes, lost to the sensations. “Maker…” He moaned.

_“The belly button. Press here and massage the area, yes like that.” Lena instructed the one time she let him give her an orgasm. Her mewls soft as he worked the areas she told him to. Though she quivered once, mouth open in a silent scream she had told him to keep going but to touch other parts._

No longer gripping the side of the tub, his right hand now slid over his belly button, pressing light and then hard, massaging as Lena had taught him to do on her. At first it was nothing until he scraped his nails over it. The skin jumped and he did it again, in circles and down to his thighs, edging around his member. The heated water paired with his thoughts and closed eyes invigorated his skin, sensitizing it to every touch, including his own.

Rubbing circles across abdomen, he kept skirting around his aching cock to tease himself.

_“Woman can have multiple orgasms in a row if you do it just right, but a man has only one orgasm before he needs to recuperate. So the anticipation, the prolonging is more than worth it. You enjoy each interaction rather than ceaselessly seek out a quick release.” Lena explained, pressing against his abdomen. “You have to find the spots on your body that are most sensitive. Be curious and explore.”_

_“What if I don’t like what I find?”_

_“Never be afraid of what you may not like, know that you have that knowledge now.”_

His breaths came heavier, panting and groaning. His left leg strained as he kept himself raised in the water, his fingers sliding and rubbing deep. No longer was he using the pretense of cleansing himself, instead he was actively seeking that nub inside him that brought his cock to life again and again.

“Andraste preserve me.” He rasped as his back arched, spine erupting in tingles. His body a quiver he flitted open his gaze and watched as his length bobbed in the cooling bathwater, mouth gaping wide.

_“Cosmos, Sebastian, kee-keeeeeep going.” Lena groaned, her leg twitching and hips squirming. She was close and Sebastian wanted to have his Mama come. He knew not to keep going once she had. He continued rubbing her abdomen with one hand, tongue lapping against her lips and nose pressed to her clit. His mama was hard to please and when she let him, he had to work. But seeing her undone, it was satisfying._

_“Right there. Oh. Oh…”_

_“Mama, are you close?” He groaned against her mound._

_“Yes, ooooh yes, sweetie I am.” She yanked at his hair. “Sorry, uh-uh-ah!” She smoothed his hair back and melted back as she came. Sebastian watched her body and as she opened her eyes, he switched tactics and rubbed against her breasts, teasing her nipples._

“Ooooh.” He groaned as he ran the tips of his fingers over his taut and perky nipples. His sinewy long form alive. He ran his hands down his body and cupped himself, gripping his cock finally and with one stroke he came as he let loose a torrent of moans.

After he calmed, he emptied his bath and dressed in the robes he would need for the day. They were crisp ceremonial white with gold inlays and red accents, the Chantry’s sunburst emblazoned on the back.  His hair was brushed back and he ate in the privacy of his room until it was time. Then he exited to the Chapel, confident and relaxed, all before first bell.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Selena returned to her apartments, after escaping the Chapel’s dormitories and then hailing a servant to lead her back, she found Prudence waiting for her in the sitting room. The sun hadn’t yet risen and there she was, smiling in the dark. The hearth’s fire had died long ago and the room was once again cold.

“That’s real fucking creepy, Prudence.” Lena grumbled as she darted to her room, dropping all pretense. They were alone and the woman unnerved her.  Her response was to give a tinkering laugh and a brief smile before she rose and followed Lena.

Lena set the arrow Sebastian had given her into her lockbox, along with the two sovereigns he’d paid her for last night’s service.

“I see you made use of your time last night.” Prudence smiled.

“Yes well, I don’t play around if I know my clients are near.” Lena crossed her arms. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the others?”

“I am here to help dress you for the day.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If you read the itinerary, you are expected to attend first chant, afterwhich morning tea, luncheon, and then afternoon coffee.” Prudence explained.

“Okay, sure fine. I’ll go. Now leave, I’ll find my way.”

“I am also tasked with ensuring you are properly dressed.”

“Properly dressed?”

“I have taken the liberty to alter the dress, magically of course, that Lusine would have worn. It should fit your shorter stature, frame, and position.” Prue pointed to a box that lay on the table. With much glaring, Lena meandered that way and opened it. “I also matched it given who your Patron is. I’m sure he will love the deep red. It matches his family’s crest.”

The dress was conservative that covered her from neck to wrist in black with a slit in the skirts to reveal the deep red underskirt. She refused to wear the petticoat as her wide hips would flare the skirt out without it. The underside of the deep, crisp black was also red silk that pressed against her underdress. Instead of a corset, the dress button at her middle which she thanked the Cosmos - er Prudence - for the foresight. She hated corsets and the buttons and loose dress would let her breath and move with ease.

In the end, the entire thing was simple in appearance but a bold statement. She’s never seen anyone wear such a dark black cloth before and here she was, traipsing to the Chapel like a dark shade.

Prudence had done something to her hair that tamed her curls to cute quaint ringlets at the end of each short strand, framing her face. A top hat accompanied the outfit. Dopey crawled up onto the hat, perched on the rim of the hat and sat still. Prudence allowed the spider, saying it was a very nice addition to the ensemble. With light touches of makeup, a folding fan, coinpurse, a strip of parchment with her schedule, and Athenril at her heel she entered the main keep.

“Well, this is definitely a much more convenient way to the Chapel.” Lena smiled at Athenril.

Athenril was dressed in formal attire that Prudence had pulled for her. It was simple black leather trousers, and a off white shirt with the same black leather tunic and arm bands and buckles.  Athenril wore her hair as usual and walked barefoot as was commonplace for most elves. Her cane at her side made her look weaker but she strode with a stiff posture, aware of her surroundings.

“It always leaves you more exposed. Did you know Viveka has been trying to have you killed?” Athenril asked.

“I know. Few weeks back, four men tried to kill me.  Good thing I had Dopey with me.” Lena affectionately brushed her hat, the spider in question responded with a faint chittering.

“How was that good?”

“Dopey spits flesh melting acid.” Lena revealed with a smile.

Athenril paused as they approached the Chapel, taking note of everyone who looked their way. And there were plenty. They stuck out in the dark colors where everyone wore bright, spring colors. Off whites, pale blues, greens and pinks. Even the men were equally as garish in dress. She shook her head. The last time she’d been here, Harlan had forced her into something similar, though he had at least conceded to darker colors to blend in. However black was not exactly blending in. It was standing out.

“I’m supposed to sit next to the other brothel owners of Kirkwall.” Lena muttered as she looked over her parchment.

“That would be Madam Giselle, she runs the Copper Maidens, and Lord La’Vish who operates the Seamstresses in Darktown. Madam Giselle is over there in the... _maker_.”

“Bright, yellow...”  Lena snorted at the elderly woman in the white and yellow lacey ensemble, with a hat that tied under her chin. She had her own attendant. A plain dressed elven man who kept his gaze down. She was speaking with a gentleman in a white tailcoat and deep velvet purple shirt next to her. He was a stern looking elderly fellow with a monocle and chain. He parted his coat and pulled an equally as purple handkerchief out and cleaned his monocle. That is when his glass eye was revealed.

The man turned his one eyed gaze toward Lena and it was like looking at Prudence once again. A sickening uncanny feeling as though the wrinkled flesh was stretched over his form, like he was _wearing_ the body. She shuddered as he gave a smile.

“Next to her would be La’Vish.” Athenril explained.

Stepping toward the two individuals, Lena gave a forced smile. Athenril stepped ahead of her and bowed low.

“I present, Madame Selena River of Kirkwall, proxy to Madam Lusine Tristeheur of the Tristeheur Family and Lord Harlan La Foix of Tantervale - most recently of Kirkwall, owners of the Blooming Rose.” Athenril announced to the two. Lena was taken aback by the long introduction.  She hadn’t realized she would be here for Harlan as well, or that Harlan was nobility.

“I present, Madam Giselle Baudelaire of Kirkwall of the Baudelaire Family of Wycome - most recently Tantervale. Owner of the Copper Maidens of Kirkwall.”  The elven man besides Giselle spoke and also gave a bow.

Both elves, Lena, and Giselle looked to the man they all knew as La’Vish who scowled but presented himself. “La’Vish of Kirkwall, owner of the seamstresses.”

As Lena drew closer the air around LaVish became progressively more flowery, almost intoxicatingly so had she not also had an allergy to most perfumes. Her nose tingled by the excess of perfumes so she turned away.

“Well, now that the formalities are out of the way.” Giselle was the first to let drop the stiff nature. “It’s so good to finally meet you. The Kirkwall underground is all a buzz with Madame River’s changes to the Coterie, with Harlan’s approval no less!”

“You are causing a stir.” La'Vish said in stiff agreement. “I do not like it.”

“Sorry about that?”

“Oh don’t mind him. La’Vish doesn’t like too much change.”

“He might reconsider that, especially a change to his name.” Lena blurted out while glaring at him. Giselle gave a pealing laugh. La’Vish glowered and harrumphed, turning to the Chapel and leaving without so much as a word.

“I see the rumors are true about her, Athenril.” Giselle addressed the former elven coterie.

“Rumors?” Lena looked at Giselle.

“They say you are blunt and say what is on your mind, most of the time.” Giselle smiled. “Though, threatening the Seneschal with exposure, you’ve got brass knockers my dear. Especially as someone so new to Kirkwall.” She grinned.

“Yes, I’ve learnt my lesson on that.” Lena sighed. If there were rumors about her circulating, she could only guess who was the source. She was going to wring that dwarf’s neck when she got back.

“We best get inside, the other nobles will put up such a fuss if they see us.” Giselle said and let Lena go first.

They were to sit in the back row, their “servants” were to stand in the outside aisle off to the side. Athenril had to stand straight without the use of her cane. Lena felt mildly guilty.  She should have asked Varric to accompany her.

As the Chapel filled, those of higher nobility and royalty sat closer to the stage and podium. With more bodies meant more heat, especially with people gossiping. Lena pulled her fan out to cool herself down.

Next to her Giselle was a regular chatty Kathy, talking about each noble they saw and who partook of what particular brothel. She also divulged of the most recent gossips about affairs.

Lena gave her half an ear, instead her focus was on recognizing particular Nobles she’s heard of. The de Launcets, Harimanns, and Reinhardts being the top ones. Then she saw the Cavins enter. The Seneschal of the Viscount of Kirkwall was with them, his face sour as he was made to accompany a young boisterous lass. Lena snorted but hid behind her fan when he turned to find the source.

It was when everyone was settled that the Choir came out. Lena could make out Sebastian. She met his gaze and gave her a wide grin. She’s never heard him actually sing the chant. She rarely ever attended Sunday chants past the morning chant which was the Mother reading it out as a lesson of sorts. There was some very nice chanting like a Carpathian or Gregorian chants but nothing quite so entertaining.

She was more than a little excited about the possibility to hear the Chant actually _sung_ instead of spoken. They had a whole choir and from the looks of it, Sebastian was a tenor, or a baritone? She wasn’t sure, she’d never studied music beyond what grade school taught her. Her little fingers fumbling over the holes on the recorder or trying to reach the keys on the keyboards. She could still play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star even though it’s been almost two decades since she was taught it.

The Chapel became silent as the Mother began a quick speech to welcome everyone to Chateau Haine. Duke Prosper was called up as he greeted them all, formally. He was almost exactly as Lena recalled from Mark of the Assassin, but his accent was less annoying than other Orlesians. She supposed she was used to it more over the others.

He sat back down at the first row and that is when the chanting began. It was low at first, rising in volume as the choir picked up, but only a third of them was actually singing and then another third began a whole verse late. Lena’s lips spread into a open mouthed smile as the chant became a canon. Each group set adding their own flavor, overlapping each other. She couldn’t understand what they were singing, though it sounded suspiciously like Latin and was just as beautiful.

Some of the Audience sat in rapt devout attention, others were whispering behind their fans, but Lena ignored them, staring at the Choir, captivated. It was music, beautiful and traditional. She had removed her top hat and set it on her lap but Dopey was purring against her hand, as taken with the music as she was. Another Sister came out midway, swinging a thurible, the Chapel filling with the smell of incense.

It was as the Choir was coming down that another sound interrupted. Blaring and obnoxious, like trumpets.

Or exactly like trumpets. Many turned in the pews to look back at the gates. Duke Prosper rose and crossed to the grand door as they were thrown open. Entered a blonde haired man.

“Ah! Duke Prosper! I’m terribly sorry we’re late.” Came the man’s loud booming voice. It echoed in the now silent Chapel.

Lena sat up straight, glaring at the interrupting man who dared burst through and interrupt a service.  The sound of his voice tickled the back of her memory.

“King Cailan, nonsense. I am pleased you made it.” Came Prosper’s response as he tried to laugh it off. Some of the lesser nobles nearby also laughed but those of Orlesian nobility raised their nose high and turned away to concentrate back on the Choir.

 _King Cailan?! As in King of Ferelden?!_ Selena stared in horror. _What in the fuck was Cailan doing in the Free Marches?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm starting school and might potentially have a full time job so I'll be a bit busy for a while so updates MAY slow down a bit. I know, just after I got back from being sick too. But... that's life! 
> 
> Lena's Dress (Obviously shrunk for a Dwarf)  
> 


	38. Chateau Haine, 1st Day pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of the first day of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. Starring a hilarious regaling of Sebastian's not-quite-so-younger years.

After the fiasco with the _King of Ferelden_ arriving late to the Chant, he was escorted to his seat along with his companions. Lena hadn’t even noticed them until she got over her shock of seeing King _fucking_ Cailan Therin, son of Maric Therin and Rowan. She could barely keep her mouth shut. He was blonde, tall, big, and broad shouldered, just like in game but no one ever described him as how _young_ he really was. He looked to be just a few years younger than herself! She would have put him as no older than twenty, at most! Cailan had a terrible case of babyface.  The smattering of the beginning of some scruff just didn’t fit him at all.

His companions, Lena noted were also two surprising people she had’t expected to see, if they were who she thought they were. Especially as greetings were spoken up as they went down the aisle between the pews.

“Teagan, how good to see you again! Ready to settle that bet this year?”

“If you mean settle, by collect. Then yes!” Came Bann Teagan Guerrin’s response to some Orlesian noble. The games did little justice to how handsome Teagan truly was.  Sure they got some of it accurate. His long dark hair, modest trim beard, and smoldering eyes.  Yet they forgot to add in the sway and swagger of his confident step, which was not overdone with his youth, that resulted in a prowl that spoke of experience both on the battlefield and in the bedroom. Teagan had a dangerous mixture of sex appeal and confidence.   

Lena had to fan herself a little faster when he caught her looking with a scrutinizing intensity. All the ladies were looking at Cailan, and there was Lena, drooling over the slightly older gentleman in his company.  The one time she’d played a female Cousland she had outright flirted with him in Redcliffe. She wondered if that meant he was interested in only humans. Though given the appreciative look he just gave her and wink, she thought not. She flushed and grinned, feeling the back of her neck sweat like the sinner that she was in the Chantry. So many naughty thoughts. She might have also popped the first few buttons open on her dress and licked her lips as his gaze wandered to her ample chest before smirking and turning away.  

Besides Cailan there was also a beautiful young woman next to him. Her skin fair, hair blonde and tucked back into braids. She was adorned in no fancy jewels or dress but was dressed with a practicality that spoke of her position, status, but was not extravagant. The dress was simple but rich, it’s colors crisp. She wore a few touches of makeup to accentuate her natural beauty.  The effect gave her a permanent come hither look, especially as she kept her eyes half lidded and wandering over the pews searching the faces with her lips pursed. At first Lena thought it was a prowling sexual look, but then she noticed the sword at her side. She wasn’t looking to play, she was looking for danger. A smart cautious woman indeed.

“After you, Anora.” Cailan was loud. He looked at his wife with adoration and puppy eyes.  She gave him a pleased terse smile as she slid into her seat.

Lena pursed her lips as they settled and the Choir began again. She refocused her attention on the singing.

It was just after the first service that she found herself waiting for Sebastian. Madam Giselle had excused herself to change her clothes for morning tea. La’Vish had said nothing but had also left, leaving Lena and Athenril. Being the proxy for Madam Lusine meant Lena knew no one there amidst the royalty and nobility visiting the pleasure palace retreat. Sure she knew of Cailan, Teagan, and Anora but to them she was a stranger. Sebastian was the only one she really knew here. That and Athenril who was sat on the railing at her insistence. She looked more relaxed off her injured leg.

“I would have thought with Feynriel’s help you would have healed faster. I hadn’t considered it would hurt you this much still.” Lena frowned, as others exited the Chapel, nobles milling about at a leisurely pace into the courtyard garden speaking with each other.

“Harlan has a way of making injuries stick.” Athenril explained as her fingers rubbed her upper thigh.

“Hmm.” Lena shook her head, but refocused on the Chapel doors just as that loud boisterous King came out.

“I think I shall retire to our rooms.” Anora spoke as she stepped ahead of Cailan.  

“Are you certain? There will be a grand luncheon after morning tea, Anora. I thought we might-” Cailan said but Anora gave him a look that had Cailan’s excited expression droop with resignation. “Of course. I understand it was a long journey. You must be tired.”

They both watched Anora walk off with her handmaiden, Erlina.

“I suppose we shall enjoy tea without her then.” Teagan slapped his nephew’s shoulder with a smile.

“Of course, Uncle.” Cailan perked right back up and the two were off.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to change your clothes?” Athenril asked.

“Morning tea first. Then that and then luncheon, but I want to see one of the Brothers of the Choir first.” Lena explained just as Sebastian walked out speaking with a young man who wore more leathers than cloth in noble dress. He wore a sullen expression until Sebastian said something and the man snorted.

“Didn’t get enough of him last night?” Athenril teased once she recognized the Brother.

Lena glowered. “Be quiet.”

“Shall I give you some privacy? I can protect you from the shadows much better than at your side.” Athenril offered.

“I’d prefer you stay where I can see you.” Lena muttered.

“Fair enough.”

Sebastian looked up to her as he approached with his companion in tow. Lena straightened up and removed her hat, handing it to Athenril. Dopey had long since worked its way into her high collar. She could feel the small spider resting on her collarbone just below the cloth, it’s shivering body indicative of it feeling cold. She wondered when the feeling of eight fuzzy legs crawling on her skin had begun to feel normal enough for her to ignore it.

“Lena.” Sebastian gave a head bow to her and she gave a formal curtsy, to keep up appearances. The one cotillion class she remembered taking in her youth coming back to her. “You look radiant today. The colors of your dress suit you.” He gave a grin and knowing wink as he eyed the colors.

“Really? Prudence thought you might like it.” Lena lifted the skirts to reveal more of the deep red. Sebastian’s gaze lingered on the red before meeting her gaze. They were heated for a moment. “The chant. It was so lovely.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“It’s a shame it isn’t sung like that back in Kirkwall.” Lena sighed.

“Yes. Though I suppose there hasn’t been an event to require it since the Grand Tourney, but that was before you arrived.” Sebastian explained. Lena hummed and turned to his companion.

“I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

The friend was a human with pale skin and long dark hair slicked back, a stray lock loose and hanging that he kept tucking behind his ear but it kept escaping.  His clean shaven jaw and chin were marked by the soul patch just below his lip. While he looked sour at first, he brightened up on catching sight of Athenril and her. His posture straightened, even if it was forced.

“I’m delighted to meet you. I’m Madame Selena River.” She held her hand out to shake his but he had other ideas. He gave a formal half bow as he raised her hand up. She caught his gaze as he bent, that stray lock hanging. A niggling in the back of her memory sparked a familiar name just as he said it.

“Ser Nathaniel Howe.” He introduced himself.

“Nathaniel Howe.” Lena spoke at the same time as him. She stilled, panicking as the weight of three curious gazes fell on her. Sebastian with a raised brow, Athenril tilted her head and Nathaniel looked concerned.

“I’m sorry have we met, my lady? I don’t believe I recognize you.”

“Ah no. You just remind me of your father.” Lena lied through the skin of her teeth. But it was the wrong thing to say as his lips tightened.  She fumbled over her words, “Whom I’ve never met either just, I’ve just seen him from the distance. The resemblance is strong.” He became sullen again, but remained polite as he let her hand go.

“Ah.” Nathaniel frowned. “I see.”

Sebastian looked between the two and then coughed. “Nathaniel is the one I told you I have the bet with for the Tourney.” He tried to bring Nathaniel out of the mood Lena put him in to no avail.

“Oh? Hmm, that is curious.” Lena eyed Nathaniel who forced a smile.

“How so?” Nathaniel asked. “...my lady?” He added as an afterthought.  Sebastian gave a sharp intake of breath at the slight but Lena was unfazed and unperturbed only because she didn’t know.

“I don’t know if I can make a solid bet on either of you without first seeing your skill with a bow.” Lena tried to goad him.

“Well, as I will be participating in the Wyvern hunt tomorrow, perhaps you may see that.” He said with a tight voice.

“At the Hunt?” Lena raised a hand to her mouth. “Surely not! Wyverns are rather dangerous! A young man such as yourself taking on a wyvern.”

“I assure you I am more than capable, my lady.” Nathaniel spoke politely through tense lips.

“I wasn’t calling into question whether you were capable but...well.” Lena fluttered her lashes and gave his whole body a raking look. At first he didn’t notice until Lena gave an appreciative hum. Lena wet her lips and gave a squeeze of her fan. “Strapping young men can do just about anything. And you’re an archer so you’d have _precise_ aim and coordination in your movements.” She fiddled with the buttons of her collar where two buttons had already been undone. Dopey darted into her cleavage. “Fluid and fierce.”

Her blatant flirtations rendered Nathaniel speechless for a moment. He gave a quick look to Sebastian, as though asking for help and permission. Sebastian smirked at Lena’s machinations.

“I-uh. Madame are you saying-” Nathaniel fumbled.

Sebastian took pity on his friend. “I believe, what Lena is saying is that she would greatly enjoy seeing an example of your-”

“Prowess.” Lena interrupted while popping open another button on her collar.  Both men stilled at the action, drawn to the exposure of the pale flesh of her collarbone and upper chest.  Lena gave a breathy faint sigh that heaved her chest and placed a hand on Sebastian’s arm to steady herself.  At her touch, Sebastian looked back up at Nathaniel and made to admonish his blatant staring when Lena shook her head to dissuade him.

The exchange did not go unnoticed. Athenril filed away the shared look between them.

Nathaniel fumbled, cheeks beginning to redden. Lena took pity on him.

“With a bow, of course.” She grinned.

“I’m sure the Chateau has an archery range.” Sebastian added. “But sadly I will not be able to join you in finding it.”

“Why ever not?” Nathaniel challenged, forcing his gaze from Lena to Vael.

“I have the rest of the day to perform chants, my friend. I have a responsibility to perform.” Sebastian offered his platitudes.

“Yes and your performances are so vigorously entertaining.” Lena gave Sebastian a cheeky grin. In the corner of her eye, Nathaniel gaped.  “Tis a pity. Here I was hoping you’d accompany me to morning tea.” Lena sighed. She actually was not looking forward into being in the Solarium alone with so many people she didn’t know.

“Then perhaps Nathaniel can accompany you.” Sebastian offered, looking at Nathaniel with expectation. Lena sent Sebastian a side-eyed look. He had the nerve to send her a pleased and shit-eating grin. He planned this from the very start!

“If you don’t mind my company, Madame.”  Nathaniel straightened and offered his arm to her.

“I just hope we can find something to _do_ besides drink tea for the rest of the morning.” Lena sighed with a smile, looping her hand through Nathaniel’s offered arm.

“You’ll have plenty to discuss I’m sure. I shall see you both at supper tonight in the Grand Hall.” Sebastian waved them off as Nathaniel led the way. Athenril gave Sebastian a squint, waiting for the other two to be out of earshot. She made to say something but merely shook her head while trailing after Lena a respectable distance as her bodyguard.

Lena had to lift her skirts a touch as they walked. She’d noticed on the way to the Chapel they were just a bit too long but she ignored it. Now however, as she had to climb stairs, the length was becoming bothersome. She had to slow Nathaniel down to a crawl so she didn’t step on the underskirts and trip and fall.  It didn’t help that actually moving around in a dress this heavy that covered her almost completely was generating heat.  She could almost feel the sweat coming had it not been for the chilling mountain breeze.

“Might I ask how you and Sebastian met?” Lena began grilling. This had never been in the games. She couldn’t recall much about Nathaniel Howe. She never played Awakening, only watched videos and obsessively combed through the codex entries online for information so there was no surprises in the lore continuation when she played Dragon Age 2. She was curious and suspicious. How’d the two had come together was never covered in the games or books, she didn’t think.

“To be honest Madame, I could ask the same of you.” He responded in kind, looking at her.

“One of us has to go first.” Lena responded in the politest version of _I asked first_ she could muster.

Nathaniel pulled in a heavy breath but caved. Lena loved this, pulling people whatever way she wanted to do and say what she wanted all because of etiquette. The Grand Game even in the Marches was _fun._

“When I was younger, my father sent me to Starkhaven to study as a squire under a trained chevalier, Ser Rodolphe.” Nathaniel consented after a lapse in silence. “It just so happened he was often at the court of the Vael family.”

“Ah. And so you two met during Sebastian’s more _formative_ years and became friends?”

“Not quite, my lady.”

“Oh? Then how did you become acquainted?”

“It was…a forced acquaintanceship.”

“I can't imagine how a forced one could lead to friendship. Surely you can shed some details.”

“I’m afraid the story may be a bit scandalous.” Nathaniel apologized with brows furrowed.

“Scandalous? So I take it was embarrassing?” Lena raised one brow. Nathaniel looked at her and smiled.

“Yes.” Nathaniel trailed off and eyed the devious and eager look in her eye. “It would surely color your opinion of Brother Sebastian and myself.”

“All the more reason to tell.”

“You would encourage gossip?”

“I would. In fact, not telling me just leaves me to make up my own story and it may just be just as embarrassing if not more for you as it is for him.” Lena threatened lightly.

“I doubt it would be.” Nathaniel regarded her.

“Tell me, have you heard of the Dwarven author Varric Tethras?” She gave a coy smile up at him.

“I have.”

“Good. Then you should know I cohort with him and his ilk.”

“His ilk?”

“Authors, writers, and novelists. We storytellers are able to twist any dull gossip in an adventure and turn an embarrassing tale for one party into one of remarkable pity for the other. We possess conniving little tongues.” Lena emphasized her point by sliding her tongue across her lips. The desired effect was her treat. Nathaniel gave a harsh swallow as he looked forward. For a while it was silent as he considered his words while avoiding her overly flippant charm.

“If I tell you…” Nathaniel trailed off with a self satisfied smile.

“Oh you tease! That's not very nice!”

Nathaniel’s laugh was throaty and gravelly as she slapped his arm lightly. The sound carried and a few ladies peered at him curious until they saw her on his arm. Even Lena was affected by it, the masculine sound thrilled down her spine causing a budding warmth in her lower back.

“I hope Sebastian didn’t say I was nice.” Nathaniel smirked.

“Maker’s breath. I had hoped you wouldn't be! Especially here of all places.” Lena smiled.

“Here?” Nathaniel questioned.

“Chateau Haine. The pleasure palace.” Lena purred with suggestion. Nathaniel cleared his throat.

“Yes...well.” He didn't respond as they walked coming toward the Solarium.  The solarium was a new addition to the Chateau. It’s structure mismatched that of the beautiful stonework of the keep and was a sore thumb against the gray fixtures, though the workers, architects and gardeners did their best to make it fit in. It’s large paned windows encased an indoor garden of potted plants and luxurious birds and animals prowling around. A reflecting pool and fountain took up most of the center, walkways allowed those to see the fishes swimming in the water. Fine wicker tables and chairs lined the outside of the fountain where servants were serving tea into small cups.

Nathaniel chose a somewhat private table for the both of them, holding the chair out for Lena.  Selena went to gesture for Athenril to sit as well but her bodyguard had already meandered off to the side where other handmaids, bodyguards, and servants stood by.

As the servants set their tea down, Lena plopped three cubes of sugar into the sweet pink tea. 

“Sooo?” Lena grinned, encouraging him to engage in gossip. Nathaniel snorted but the sour look he had when she met him was all but gone as he began, a playful smirk stretching and lighting his features in mirth.

_Nathaniel Howe woke in his chambers to the sound of a shriek and glass shattering through his door. A thump and scrape against stone and moans came next. Nathaniel sat up in his bed and rose, his sword at the ready to fight the attacker when voices filtered in through his door._

_“Maker! I don’t remember this table being here.” Came an inebriated gasp, a giggle followed after._

_“You don’t remember the way to your own quarters Prince?” A feminine voice questioned as there was a bang against stone._

_“It’s my family’s castle,_ **_everywhere_ ** _is my quarters.” Growled the man before more giggles ensued._

_Maker why? Nathaniel knew of the Vael’s third son, Prince Sebastian Vael. He was prolific in his engagements but why did he have to do this outside his quarters? Ser Rodolphe’s chambers were not far off and if he woke, Nathaniel just knew he’d be blamed._

_“Oh Prince…” The woman’s voice moaned, Sebastian’s groaning grew louder. There was more thumping and Nathaniel wondered if it was really worth it to go out there and stop it. “Prince, prince…”_

_“My name…” Sebastian groaned as the slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the corridor. “Use my name.” He rasped._

_Nathaniel’s brows furrowed. Perhaps if he waited for them to finish, then he can clean up after them so Ser Rodolphe would never know._

_“Oooh yes. Anything you say Prince Vael.” The trollop practically shrieked._

_Maker she was loud! Nathaniel stomped to the door when there came a frustrated growl and the movement stopped._

_“What happened?” The woman asked._

_“Nothing, just a moment.”_

_Frowning, Nathaniel had meant to step out to chase the woman away and lightly encourage the Prince back toward his quarters. Instead, quiet and careful, he pressed his ear against the door to listen. There was a schlicking sound and a heavy breath._

_“Let me help you-”_

_“Stop it.”_

_“Prince I can help.”_

_“Enough!”_

_It was silent until Sebastian hissed. Buckles clanged as the table was set right when a door swung open at the end of the hall. “Fuck.”_

_Nathaniel recognized the direction it came from and swore as he darted back to his bed. If he was caught awake at this hour by Ser Rodolphe it’d be a hundred laps in full armament around the castle. He wouldn’t be able to walk the stairs afterwards without one of the guards helping him. Maker damn that whoring son of a prince!_

_It was as he pulled the blankets over himself that the door to his chambers opened and there were hushing and shushing sounds._

_“Get in the armoire.” Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut as he heard both of them rummaging through his things. It wasn’t like he could tell the son of a Vael to get out? This was his family’s castle! Nathaniel was lucky to be studying under one of their chevaliers. “Be silent.”_

_Footsteps boomed outside his chambers as bare feet danced around his room, searching for a place to hide. Nathaniel peeked and saw Vael just as he jumped into his bed with him. He yelped but Sebastian slapped a hand over his mouth._

_“Play along, Ser Knight.” Sebastian whispered and pressed his hips against Nathaniel’s. His other hand pressing Nathaniel’s sleeping trousers and smalls down. Nathaniel smacked his hand to get him to let go but Sebastian’s grip was harsh on his, and pinning both of his arms above his head. “That's it, keep wriggling.” Sebastian sighed the ale and wine heavy on his breath._

_Howe growled and used his legs to push Vael off but it had the unfortunate effect of spreading his legs just as the door swung open._

_“Howe did you-” Ser Rodolphe froze upon seeing his squire and the third son of the Prince in bed together. Howe’s legs spread and Sebastian resting between them and looking back at the door with a half cocked smirk. Rodolphe’s mouth opened briefly before he snapped it shut and about faced slamming the door behind him._

_Maker why?! Nathaniel wanted to bite his hand as he tried to push him off. The rumors this would produce!_

There was a scandalized gasp from the servant who came to pour more tea. Nathaniel stiffened remembering himself. He realized his folly in telling that particular story and looked to Lena who was now red faced with tears at her eyes, her shoulders shaking. “I beg your pardon for my language.  And the story, it was inappropriate for a woman such as yourself.”

Selena was still shaking, hand tight over her mouth and her head shook.  

“I have not been at court with noble dwarven women before. I thought-”

She snorted and snickered. Nathaniel squinted at her as she lost her composure. She guffawed and bent over to release great chittering laughs, it intermingled with her sniggling.  Nathaniel tried to look cross at her laugh but even he had to admit it was funny. She took a look at him just as she was calming but it sent her giggling once again.

“His panic led him to jump right into my bed.” He continued the story knowing it wouldn’t offend. Lena’s face went red again as she lost her breath and then released an unseemly snort that caused her to jolt up and back as she cackled.

“To-to hide. Oh _maker_.” Lena managed between laughs as she fanned herself. “ Did Ser Rodolphe say anything to his parents?”

“Oh, yes.  Immediately.” Nathaniel answered with a serious expression but said nothing else. He grinned when Lena leant forward making circles with her hand, impatient as she shook with contained glee.

“And?”

“Well, after sending him to the Chantry for penance, they were more relieved it was a man they found him with.” Nathaniel drew out the explanation.

“ _No._ ”

“So relieved, they _actively_ encouraged our supposed _relationship_.” Nathaniel sighed, this made Lena emit another peal of laughter her hand coming down on the wicker table and jolting the cups. Nathaniel stilled them before they could spill but Lena lost herself and even fell out of her chair. “Are you alright?” He stood,

She nodded her head as she lay on the floor. A few other guests looked their way as her shrieks of delight echoed. It took a few moments but she was climbing up. Nathaniel helped her to her feet and back into her chair.

“Oh maker!”

He waited until she calmed before he continued again. “They thought it was better because he was no longer fucking every whore this side of the Minanter River.”

“What did you do?” Lena asked between snickers.

“Me?” Nathaniel blinked.

“What did you do when they assumed you were their...” Lena’s shoulders shook. “... _son’s lover._ ”

Nathaniel brow’s furrowed and his nose scrunched as though he smelled something foul. “Maker, don’t say that.” He sighed and then drained his teacup.  “But, I went along with it.”

This sobered her and she frowned. “Why?”

“He offered me something in return for my cooperation.”

_“Maker, are you addled?!” Nathaniel exclaimed at Sebastian._

_“Come now, Ser Knight. I would be in your debt.” Sebastian pleaded as he grasped Nathaniel’s hands, staring up at him._

_“My name is Nathaniel.” He growled and tossed his hands away._

_“Then Nathaniel, light of my heart.” Sebastian tried with a smirk._

_Howe gave a disgusted noise and stalked away toward the archery range. Nathaniel wanted nothing to do with Vael. He was content in his life to study as a squire and one day be a chevalier. Then he could go off and do what he wanted._

_“Come now Howe. All you have to do is play along. Keep up the charade only in front of my parents.” Sebastian was following him, Nathaniel wondered if he ignored him, if he’d go away._

_“No.” He spat and turned to practice with his bow, imagining the target as Sebastian. He ignored the Prince as he took aim and let loose his arrow.  Each time he went to retrieve his arrows, he noticed Vael paid him with close attention. He ignored him best he could._

_“Hmm. What if I offered you something?” Sebastian asked. When Nathaniel said nothing he frowned. “No?” Sebastian hummed. “Gold?” Nathaniel didn’t react. “Wine?” Howe snorted.  “Women?” His eyes rolled as he let loose another arrow, this time imagining the target as Sebastian’s crotch. He smirked as he hit just slight to the left of the center. “Hmm, what about…pleasure.”_

_Nathaniel refused to jump when his voice came closer than he thought the Prince should be. “You could offer me nothing to change my mind.”_

_“Done! We have an agreement then.” Sebastian smirked._

_“What?! I didn’t agree to-”_

_“Oh but you did. You said I could offer you_ ** _nothing_** _for you to change your mind.”_

_“That is not what I meant!”_

_“Too late!” Sebastian smirked._

_“You-”_

_“Ah-ah. My dearest, you know how red you get when you’re angry.”_

_“I’ll kill you!”_

_“Only a little. Petit mort.” Sebastian laughed as he patted Nathaniel’s cheek._

Selena could not help herself but to cackle once again. “Stop! Oh my goodness. I can’t.” She breathed out. “Oh you… oh.” She quieted. “He offered you _nothing_ and you just went along with it?”

“Well it wasn’t nothing. He did eventually pay me back, in some way.”

“How so?”

“I told you, I was studying to be a squire. As it turned out I’m less than adequate with a sword.”

“I’d pay to be the judge of that.” Lena muttered.

“What?” Nathaniel looked at her sharp.

“Nothing, continue.”

He squinted but continued on. “Well, despite being dragged every which way to keep up appearances, I was allowed a reprieve every morning. At least until his brothers caught wind of me. They joined me at the archery range. Every one of the Vael family is excellent with a bow. Thus I had the crown Prince challenging me to an archer’s duel for the right-  for the right to court his youngest brother.”

Lean managed to not snicker. “What is an archer’s duel?”

“Ay, I had to best him at short, long, and movement flights. Needless to say, I lost. Spectacularly.” Nathaniel shrugged.

“Awww. I’m sure you’ve gotten better with a bow, or else you wouldn’t be joining the Tourney.” Lena smiled.

“I did.” Nathaniel smiled with fondness at the memories. “Sebastian was so affronted that I couldn’t even best his eldest brother at short flight, he came pounding at my door at maker knows what time in the morning, screeching.” Nathaniel’s voice took on an arrogantly and overly stereotypical Starkhaven accent. “ _No sweetheart of mine will be_ **_that_ ** _dreadful with a bow._ ”

“Oh how _adorable_! He gave you archery lessons.” Lena cooed.

“Of a sorts. It was more like the military for archery.”  Nathaniel rubbed his shoulders remembering how long Sebastian had him keeping the bow drawn with his posture stiff but not letting loose an arrow. “I thought Ser Rodolphe was a taskmaster, but Sebastian was on a different scale.”

“So, did you ever ask for a rematch with the crown Prince?”

“Maker no! Why would I ever?”

“Pride?”

“I did not have my pride so damaged by losing at an archery challenge I had wanted no part of to begin with.”

“You didn’t...throw the match did you?”

“No. I have enough pride to not do that. But Sebastian said if I could best him, then it was good enough.”

“Have you beaten Sebastian?” Lena queried.

“No, I’ve not.”

“Is that what the bet is about?”

“You are an astute woman, my lady.” Nathaniel grinned.

Lena tilted her head in thought. “Do you want to win?”

“To be perfectly honest, no. But I will give it my all.” Nathaniel smiled. “Though this was when were much younger, you realize. He’s changed much since then. Becoming a Brother has certainly tempered him and made him more virtuous and pious.” Nathaniel explained.

“Oh yes. _Very_ pious. He prays every Tuesday.” Lena blinked up at him with innocence. Her lips twitching at her own personal joke. She couldn’t wait to bring this up later.

Lena hummed in thought as they finished their teas. Lena had to leave to change for Luncheon, as did Nathaniel. Though he offered to escort her to her apartments, Lena waved him off as Athenril did the task for him. They agreed to meet at the gate for Lunch which ended up being just as pleasant of an affair as morning tea in Nathaniel’s company again. Lena invited Athenril to sit at the table as well.

Thankfully, afternoon coffee was skippable so Lena retired to the apartments for the afternoon to have a nap. Her latent introversion kicking her ass as she fumbled onto the bed. She dozed off long enough to be refreshed and up until after midnight. She removed the rest of the dress, having only removed the outer black dress. Now she stripped off the red layer and sat in just the underdress as she rummaged through her lockbox.

She had sectioned off space in the lockbox for coin. There was also a few bars of her very expensive soap that Varric had gifted her.  She grabbed it, fully intending on bathing and using it when she spied her iPad, the makeshift copper wire wrapped around the electricity runes that connected to her charger. Curious she pulled it out. Unplugging it, she popped it on her lap and pressed the button to turn it on. Like always the battery symbol flashed before the apple logo and then she was greeted with the picture of her nephew and niece.

Selena smiled, finger touching the screen. If she’d missed her own birthday then she’d missed her nephew’s and was about to miss her niece's as well.  They’d be turning seven and two. Lena wiped her eyes and unlocked her iPad, pleased to see it was charged to one hundred percent.

As expected, there was no service and no wifi but she swiped through faintly familiar apps. When she came across her ibooks she clicked into it and saw the myriad of books, comics, and game guides in her collection. She opened up the first book, World of Thedas volume one and searched the document for mentions of Chateau Haine. There were only two mentions. The little snippets of information she already knew.  She groaned and opened up volume two but froze at the index, seeing the section on the Champion of Kirkwall.

Selena looked to the door, to the windows and hurriedly locked them and drew the curtains. The hearth’s fire would be her only light. She also retrieved her earbuds from her lockbox. Plugging them in, she clicked into her music. With shaking hands she pressed shuffle play, wondering if there would be sound.

“... _this is a game about space. Space! It’s so Beautiful.  The elegance. The story of why. I. Love. Space._ ” The music began and Lena burst into laughter that quickly divulged into tears as she listened to music, real twenty-first century music.  So what if it was a song from a youtuber. The auto-tune was familiar and the lyrics silly. Her heart ached as she listened to it, a medley of silly youtube songs following and she laughed, remembering them and crying. She buried her face into the pillow and hugging her working ipad to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Song is Markiplier's "[Space is So Cool](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jItnCGRsMjw)" remixed by Schmoyoho. I chose it because it wasn't serious or sad. She hit shuffle and looking at my ipad and hitting shuffle means I get the silliest of songs from random places. So I kept up with the same thing. Also too often people choose songs that have meaning in fics like these to set the mood. Life is never that organized or intentional. So have a reminder that she is from the 21st century!
> 
> Upcoming Chapters:  
> 039\. Chateau Haine, 2nd Night  
> 


	39. Chateau Haine, 2nd Night pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the second night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. Enter Nathaniel as Lena's Escort to the Sabbath Ball at the Pleasure Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutouts to LonelyAgain, Spellweaver, Bigbear1992 for help with this chapter!

“What the-” Lena squinted at her iPad. The wifi settings box popped up. Her fingers stilled over it as it listed a local hotspot. It wasn't a very strong connection as it had only one bar. Her finger hovered, curiosity drawing her. A wifi hotspot in Thedas? It didn’t have a name in the brief moment it showed, then it disappeared all together. _A glitch?_  It came back up. She rubbed her eyes and watched as it disappeared and came back. Another bar showed up, indicating the signal was stronger but it waned as though the hotspot was _moving_ closer and further away from her. As it got stronger, symbols began to appear in place of the name but they were not recognizable to Lena. They weren’t Common/English letters but disjointed swirling characters.

Lena had consumed as much information as she could in the little time before dinner. She’d spent the better part of an hour listening and lip singing to music while bawling, her nose stuffing up and eyelids puffing.  Her mouth felt like a cottonball from stuffing the pillow when she couldn't control her sobs.  She had allowed herself an hour of music before turning it off to ensure her iPad stayed charged before she went back to read the sections on Nathaniel Howe and Sebastian Vael. There was little information there she hadn’t forgotten. None of it mentioned Sebastian’s association with Nathaniel. It only covered a very basic overview of him.

She’d taken notes and wrote down tasks for herself. If she was to change anything in the timeline, at least let it be by choice now instead of accidental like she had with Sister Petrice. There was the letter to Malcolm Hawke, she won't see the effects of that until 9:30 at the earliest. If she's even here for that long. She really hoped she wouldn't be and that Xenon would notice her as an oddity. But even then the chances of him having a way out were- she didn't want to think about it.

Her attention had went to Sebastian and his family. If there was anything she wanted to also change, it was that. She’s become more fond of him than she thought she would over the months and protective.  If she had any power to, she'd help out the mages in the Gallows but she didn't think she'd survive an encounter with Meredith, pretty as she is. So Lena was concentrating on things she could _actually_ change or alter.

From what she recalled, Sebastian would one day be so distraught at his family’s death he would put up a bounty. But that didn't let her know _when_ his family died. Given his anger it was likely after he found out someone else had caused it.  The stages of grief didn’t have a particular order so she couldn’t even count on that.  Though it seemed he held onto that anger for a while and then bargained before acceptance.

Which brought Lena to the knowledge of Lady Harimann. How long did it take Allure to influence her? Was she already under the demon’s influence in 9:27? If she gave an anonymous tip to the Templars would they take her to the Gallows? Or would they ignore it because she's nobility with ties to royalty?

_Too many variables._ Her best bet would be to find a way into the Harimann estate and see for herself. Which would put her in harm’s way. Lena didn't want that. She wanted to help as best she could but she was untrained in combat. She barely made it out of alive and intact in her encounter with Baltier. She had spiders yes, but how easily did the Warden, Hawke and Inquisitor kill spiders? Too easy. She needed time to think.

“Ugh.” She swiped down continuing to read to distract herself, but it left her frustrated.  The entire descriptions and histories felt superficial when paired with her memories and experience. She knew who some of them were beyond a few pages worth of biography. Or at least with Sebastian she did. And Varric, whom she had swiped to his section. Her fingers stilling when she learned his mother had only passed the prior year of liver ailment.

She swiped through the books trying to find anything useful but the texts were all large and the descriptions were lacking. Each biography was a caricature of who the person really was and that was only after a skim through.

Lena had concluded she needed more time and privacy to delve more into her resources.  She’d exited out of the apps and that’s where she was with every technology based horror movie flashing across her mind staring at the wifi hotspot window.

If she connected, what would happen? She stared at the window. Minutes ticking as she weighed sating her curiosity to the potential dangers to her iPad. This was a world of magic, anything was possible.

Lena turned her iPad off. Maybe it was a temporary glitch? _Have you tried turning it off and on again?_ The standard IT advice made her lips lift for a brief moment but they tensed into a straight line. She turned it back on. She waited, eying the Apple logo and then…

It was back, this time the letters were changing as though on a dial and not swirling.

“Noooooope. No. Nuh uh.” She shook her head and turned it off, packed it away into her lockbox.

For a few seconds it was quiet as she stared at the lockbox before moving on. She had to get ready for dinner. Opening her door to get the other dress Prudence had left, she froze when she was met with the woman. Prudence’s uncanny smile greeted her. Lena would have jumped a mile, her heart thundering as she sucked in a breath but her grip on the door kept her in place.

“You look dreadful.” Prudence chided as she stepped into the bedroom. Lena glared at her.

“I had a bad nap.” Lena sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. Crying always left her eyes itchy and she’d unconsciously been rubbing at them, no doubt making the puffiness worse and red.

“Hmmm.” Prudence tapped her lip, the oily quality of her inner mouth flashing in the low light and the scent of putrefaction emitting from within made Lena turn away. Prudence’s lips stretched wider at the effect she had on her. “An icy splash will fix your eyes and then a hot bath will breathe warmth into your pallid complexion.”

“What?” Lena scowled as Prudence made her way through the apartments. The tub had already been filled with steaming water, and the new dress was already laid out.  Lena glared at it and the long skirts she’d have to deal with.

“You can’t expect to make your first formal appearance at court with you looking frumpy and ill?”

“What?!” Lena fumbled.

“Oh. Here I thought you were more apt than this.” Prudence tutted.

“Exactly how is this a formal appearance to court? It’s dinner.” Lena was flummoxed.

“Duke Prosper along with his friends of nobility and royal guests will be in attendance. If this does not meet your criteria of Court, then my dear I fear I may have overestimated your abilities.” Prudence lowered her gaze.  Selena felt like a child being chided in her presence. “Into the bath.”

“I can bathe myself.” Lena huffed her cheeks out.

“So you shall.” Prudence gave her some privacy. The bath already had some soaps near it, so Lena used that.  She scrubbed and rinsed and climbed out.  As soon as she dried she put her smalls on and was about to slip the dress on when Prudence appeared again.

“Are you my handmaiden or something?” Lena snapped as the eerie Lady picked up a brush. Her light grey gaze turned dark as she frowned. Shivering, Lena stumbled back and away.

“What a rude thing to say. I am a lady of nobility. While I may have a vested interest in your success, that does not give you the liberty to not denote proper respect where it is deserved.” Prudence explained while approaching, her steps gliding. Lena once again noticed the oddity of how her legs moved. _Wrong_ , being the only right word to describe it.

“Why?” Lena summoned up the courage. “Why are you so interested in my success here?”

“ _Ce qui se passe au palais, ne reste au palais._ ” Prudence hummed. Lena only knew a few of those words purely for their similarity to Latin and thus Spanish. “Madam Luisine’s proxy shan’t be disorderly at the Chateau. Everyone will remember if you do not behave accordingly. Harlan would be most displeased.”

“Oh.” Lena blinked. “So it’s about reputation then.”

“Yes.”

“About, how others will perceive Madam Lusine and Harlan?”

“I am so glad you are finally catching up. You really must do better.”

“No, no. I understood that. One more question before I let you anywhere near my hair.” Lena smiled with an impish grin. Prudence raised a brow. “What reputation should I encourage in my actions? Because...I gotta tell you, I can portray anything you want me to.”

Prudence’s less than pleased expression became one of contemplation. “Any reputation?”

“I assume people will be drinking at this dinner?” At Prudence’s nod Lena became eager. “Then yes.” Lena shrugged. Prudence beamed at her, pleased.  

The dress, once Lena had a moment to look at it closer, was a startling white. Prudence told her she was _not_ to wear smalls or a breast band as it could be seen through the white fabric. Lena didn’t object, because if she had the option, she wouldn’t wear either at all - unless she was expected to do extraneous activities then she needed the additional support.

The underdress was made of a silken yet milky fabric. It was thin and slinky against her skin. Prudence revealed it was spider silk.  

“Spider silk?” She imagined what a silk farm was like back home and replaced the worms with thousands of spiders. _Or maybe not thousands, but a few dozen giant spiders?_ Lena hummed in thought. _Spider silk is as strong kevlar, if not more._

The velvet white overdress had a sheer panel around the neck trimmed with gold cord.  The deep crimson corset tied in the back cinched the overdress which allow the skirts to flail out. Prudence learned that petticoats were not needed for Lena, not with her hips. The corset had gold chains of gold and red gems cascading from under it.  There were similarly designed bands to match the corset on the sleeves that rested on her elbows, the bell end sleeves drooped down almost to the floor.

Prudence managed to style her curls into a bun with hanging ringlets and stray curls framing her face.  Dopey had already laid claim to the bun, weaving a web around it that glinted in the light and the spider tucked into her hair, hiding. While her spider did that, Prudence had taken the liberty to fix her nails, which Lena had been chewing nervously. They were sharpened, the cuticles cleaned and made presentable.

Lena tied her red “portable pocket” to her waist.  She had a pair of white gold trimmed gloves. She didn’t want to put those on just yet, knowing they’d get dirty.

Lena walked out of her room, only to start to see Athenril dressed in a similar white ensemble but with white leather trousers and a thick jacket.  

“You won’t see me, but I will be near enough to come to your aid if you should require it.” Athenril spoke with a tense expression. The cane was gone but Athenril pulled her jacket aside to reveal the plethora of daggers at the ready. “Its best the other guests do not see me.”

“I don’t like it.” Selena glared.

“It isn’t up to you. They won’t let me in.” Athenril muttered. “After dinner, most of the guests will venture out, once that happens I’ll be able to get close.”

“Fine.”  Lena sighed, turned around and went back to her room. She grabbed her daggers out of her lockbox and slid them into her corset

“Wait.” Athenril frowned and reached for her. Lena stiffened and glowered.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Athenril bowed her head and stepped back.

“Ugh. Don’t you start with that too.” Lena huffed, but made her way toward the inner keep. The shoes she wore were calf high boots that gave her an inch and a half of added height. Athenril walked beside her through the corridor until they reached the entrance to the garden, then she disappeared.

The rain had dried from the previous night but the garden was swathed in gold from the sun as it set over the mountains. It glinted off the plants and flowers.  Lena stared out at the mountains, feeling small in this world.  She knew of the desert valley and the stretching miles of forests and coastlands.  

Nathaniel happened upon her paused at the top of the stairs into the garden. He wore no combat leathers then but was wearing rich dark trousers with an embellished ruffled white shirt and a leather vest with the Howe crest and colors. He wore a bear fur cloak that was reminiscent of a certain future commander. Only, Nathaniel fit the style much better.

Nathaniel’s lips parted in thought as he took in the full effect of Lena’s ensemble.  The pristine white was daring, and bright against the coming evening. The red contrasted and allured onlookers to her bosom, where he could detect the swell of her breasts and size and shape of her nipples as the sun passed over. But as the sun set and covered the Chateau in darkness it was hidden from sight. He gulped as her shoulders, collarbone, and the nape of her neck was on full display.  Her pale delicate soft skin glowed in the coming moonlight.

“My lady?” He questioned, ready to ask why she wore a tantalizing dress when the wind prickled her skin.  She shifted her cape up as her gaze was drawn to his voice. A sweet mouth watering scent, subtle and energizing greeted him. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

It was when she perched a single eyebrow up in question that he realized she’d even said anything and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“My apologies. Could you repeat that?” He stepped up the stairs to her.

“I thought Sebastian would be the one to escort me.” She stepped down.  She took in his dress and bemoaned her lack of height to bury her face in the fluff at his shoulders.

He held his arm out to her and she took it. She was shorter than him.  Her womanly shape a match for his masculine figure and height. Her wide sloping hips, pronounced heavy bosom made him all the more eager to have her on his arm and escort her into the salon.  The looks certain nobility would make when he was announced alongside of her made him eager to hurry.

“He sends his apologies. He was delayed at at the Chapel and sent me ahead.  He should arrive before dinner is called.” Nathaniel explained as he timed his steps so she wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t used to walking at a female dwarf’s pace as it was much slower. It afforded him the excuse to gaze down at the ample cleavage from above as he ensured she wasn’t trying to keep up with his longer strides so he could make adjustments, among others.

“Pity.” They entered the hallway that would lead to the salon.  It was where everyone above a certain rank was to congregate before dinner was called.  Lena stepped in toe with Nathaniel as he waited behind another gentleman who entered through the grand doors and the sound of them being announced.

Her heart skipped. _Holy fuck this is court!_ She hadn’t believed Prudence about this being a formal appearance at court until then. She would be announced among the other nobilities with whatever rank had been put in place for her. She spied the herald at the door checking with each guest before they went through and turned to announce. _Shit, shit._ She would be on display in front of dozens, probably up to a hundred people!

Anxiety spiked inside her as the line dwindled. Nathaniel noticed her silence but said nothing as he stepped ahead with her so they could be announced. Lena managed to utter her name to the herald. They gave her an odd look but looked at a parchment before nodding.

“Lord Nathaniel Howe of Amaranthine, apprentice to Ser Rodolphe Varley of Starkhaven accompanied by Madame Selena River of Kirkwall, proxy to Lord Harlan La Foix and Madam Lusine Tristeheur of the Blooming Rose.”

It was one thing to hear Athenril introduce her like that, another to have it shouted over the crowd in the salon. Especially so as she now had to walk down a flight of stairs and greet Duke Prosper de Montford.

“So good you could attend. How are your lessons with Ser Rodolphe?” Duke Prosper questioned the Howe. Lena stood by waiting, eying the servant that stood behind the Duke whispering to him.

“They are going well.” Nathaniel responded.

“I expect you will be joining us in the Hunt tomorrow then?” Prosper questioned.

“I shall be.”

The herald announced another guest. “Her ladyship, Marquise Mantillon accompanied by his lordship Lord Renard.”  

“Ah good good. We have so many participating this year. It’s rather exciting.”

“It usually is.” The Duke then turned his gaze down toward Lena and she stepped toward him, giving a very formal curtsy and head bow. Prosper’s smile spread wide and he let out a chuckle. “Oh my dear, you do not need to be so formal. This is the Chateau.”

“My apologies. This is my first attendance at court.”

“Oh, this could hardly be called court.”  Prosper smiled, but gave a quick bow to humor her. “As I understand you are Lusine and Harlan’s representative. How curious they sent a dwarf to act as their proxy.”

“I was up to the task and they trusted me to do well to represent them.” Lena smiled, wanting to throttle Prudence for telling her this was Court.  

“Yes. They do send the most interesting of characters here every year.”  His gaze drew down as Lena ensured her posture was perfectly straight. Her chest perked out. “I do hope you do not disappoint.”

“We at the Rose never disappoint, my lord.” Lena fluttered her lashes and bit her bottom lip. “ _Ever_ .” She drew away to rejoin Nathaniel’s side and sent a lingering look back at Prosper over her shoulder. The way his gaze lingered briefly before the next person was called had her grin. _Good._ She was doing what she told Prudence she could do.

Prudence wanted her to advertise the Blooming Rose, and so she would.   _Beguile. Tease. Tempt_ ** _._** _They must be curious when you leave so they think of you later when they are in private and wonder where they can have someone_ **_like_** _you._

The herald announced another guest. “Madam Giselle Baudelaire of the Baudelaire Family of Wycome - most recently Tantervale, owner of the Copper Maidens of Kirkwall.”

Nathaniel led her off to the side where others were milling. The floors were marble, but appeared gray in the low light provided by the oil lamps. There was gold and blues everywhere, blue and white for Orlais, but red and gold for the Free Marches in tiny sequestered areas. Yet it was clear this was a place decorated with Orlais in mind, if the lion statues were any indication. Though there was a fair few wyvern busts on display on the second floor.

Lena spied a table where hor d'oeuvres were on serving dishes. She pointed Nathaniel that way.  

“If I don’t get something to eat soon, I will surely perish.” She rasped with overdramatics. The back of her hand to her forehead to appear faint.

“Oh we cannot have that before Sebastian arrives.” Nathaniel joked.

“Not if you want me to tease him about what you shared.” Lena sniggered into her gloved hand. Nathaniel laughed but led them that way.

There was an assortment of flowers one table that Selena spied several nobles eating.  Her brows knitted as one noblewoman picked at the petals and fed them to her escort. Another table had honey covered apple slices, salted strawberries and currants. That is where Lena went, picking up a plate and serving herself a bit of all three. Then she spied the cherries, sliced honeyed bananas and pineapples. She directed Nathaniel there as well as he had a smaller helping. There was an enchanted bowl with melted chocolate and another of honey that guests could drizzle over their fruits.

Lena perked up at the next announced guest by the herald. “His Grace, the Duke Bastien de Ghislain, accompanied by Madame de Fer, court enchanter.” She tried to get a look of Madame de Fer, if it was her but they had already moved on. She went back to the food.

“Maker, this is delicious.” Lena used the small fruit fork to nibble on the salted strawberries.

“I trust you are hungry.”

“I was just joking before but I haven’t had some of these fruits in months.” She moaned as she held the cherry over her mouth, head angled back.  Nathaniel’s brows rose as she wrapped her tongue around the chery and it disappeared in her mouth. For a moment he was concerned over the stem until she pulled it out slowly while keeping eye contact with him.

“Cool huh?” Lena grinned and plopped the stem on the plate.

The herald announced another guest. “His Most Gracious Majesty, King Cailan of Ferelden, son of the late King Maric and her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Anora of Ferelden, daughter of the Hero of Riverdane.”  

“That’s…” His throat felt a bit tight and he pulled at his collar, looking anywhere but at her. “Something.” He muttered. They meandered near the table, Lena going back for more servings of pineapple. Nathaniel was just about to remind her of the rest of the coming courses when he caught the eye of someone he hadn’t wished to see just yet. He gave a low groan and hiss as they began heading their way.

“What is it?” Lena asked as she tried to get an apple slice from dripping honey on her so she could eat it.

“My father.” He sighed and stood a bit straighter. Lena’s eyes popped wide open and the apple slice fell off her fork and onto her plate.

“Nathaniel. I didn’t know you would be attending the Hunt this year.”

Lena’s toes curled in her boots as someone who sounded suspiciously like _Tim Curry_ spoke. A pleased shudder up her spine and she peered up at Rendon Howe in disbelief. _Rendon Howe_ , the one who would one day betray the Couslands, killing Fergus’s wife and _child_ . Rendon Howe who would torture all those people. Rendon Howe who very much deserved the death the Hero of Ferelden would give him. _One day._ Lena reminded herself as she stared at him. _He hasn't done those terrible things yet._

“Ser Rodolphe gave me leave to join this year.” Nathaniel spoke to his father. His shoulders tense and expression sour.

Rendon gave a pleased if disinterested hum and looked at Lena. “Don’t be rude, Nathaniel. Introduce your...companion.”

“My apologies.”  Nathaniel grit out.  “Father, this is Madame Selena River.  Madame, this is Arl Rendon Howe of Amarathine.” Nathaniel introduced them in short order. Lena gave a head bow as she smiled.

“So you’re both from _the_ Howe Family.” Lena questioned.

“Yes, has my son regaled you with tales of our family?”

“Oh no. It’s just I’m rather fond of the Howes. I'm also fond of the Whys, the Whos and the Whats.” Lena let it slip with a barely contained giggle. _Forgive me Anders, but it was too good to pass up._

“How clever.” Nathaniel groaned as Rendon gave a long suffering sigh.

“Oh yes, _Howe_ clever indeed.” Lena grinned with a gleeful bounce. Nathaniel opened his mouth and paused, thinking and then gave a chuckle.

“I didn’t realize.”

“It's shameful how long it took me to come up with that. Almost all day.” Lena snickered.

“Hmm.” Rendon was less than pleased. “I don’t believe I have ever heard of any dwarf nobility.”

“Well, I’m not really noble by Orzammar’s standards much less those of humans’.” Lena admitted, sheepish.

“Because you're on the surface.”

“Yes and no. I'm not from Orzammar, my lord.”

“No? But you are Madame.”

“I’m not that kind of Madame.” She said with a grin. Nathaniel looked at her in a moment of shock as understanding dawned on him, quickly followed by horror. Rendon blinked at her.

“What kind are you then?”

“I am a Madame of business. I aid in the financial aspects of several Kirkwall businesses.”

“So you are with the Merchant’s Guild then?”

“No, my lord. I aid in the running of several _human_ businesses. The Merchants Guild practices unorthodox business methods I do not agree with.” Lena smiled as she swirled a strawberry in some of the chocolate she had dribbled onto her plate.

“An honest dwarf. That’s something you don’t find often.” Rendon smiled.

Lena side eyed him. “No, tis not common but we do exist, my lord.  One shouldn’t form opinions on the whole just because of a few _bad eggs_ , my lord.”

“I agree! So many of your kind judge humans so harshly, expecting the worst of us.” Rendon agreed.

Lena bristled, her spine stiffening. “I cannot imagine why. Humans have given dwarva so much business. Myself included.” Lena batted her lashes at Rendon, hand brushing a hand back and touching her bun to calm Dopey who she could feel bristling as well.

“What businesses do you aid in? Perhaps we’ve had exchanges?”

“Have you heard of Hightown’s Rose, my lord.” Lena grinned wide as Rendon’s brows furrowed low and then rose high in recognition. “I had my start there.” She licked at the chocolate covered strawberry before chewing it.

“Ah.” Rendon looked to Nathaniel, amusement flashing before intrigue and interest took hold. “I have heard of it. A...fetching establishment for one such as yourself.”

“It is of the highest quality, my lord. We never leave any of our patrons dissatisfied.” Lena gave a coy smile as she lifted an apple slice to chew with her fork.

The herald announced another guest. “His lordship, Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven, Brother to the Kirkwall Chantry.”  Lena turned toward the stairs to see him, taken by his appearance. She barely had a moment to truly appreciate the _kilt_ he was wearing when honey dribbled down from the apple slice to her chest.  She gave a start, setting her fork down as as it inched toward her dress.  Her ears blushed as she looked for a napkin to wipe it off, not wanting to stain the nice dress or embarrassed herself for the rest of the night with a stain.

“Allow me, Madame.” Rendon Howe spoke and leant toward her. She thought he’d wipe the honey with a handkerchief or his hand but instead his head dipped to her chest. His tongue dragged across her upper chest licking the honey up with brazen gusto. He dipped his tongue into her cleavage where there hadn’t been any honey spillage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ce qui se passe au palais, ne reste au palais._ What happens at the palace, never stays at the palace. 
> 
> [ Lena's Dress ](http://firefly-path.deviantart.com/art/White-and-Crimson-Medieval-Gown-609172057) 
> 
> I had intended for one chapter to encompass the entire night. But as I wrote, things began to happen. I was nearing 10k words when I decided to stop and break a chunk of it off and just post it. I had to pick a really good spot for a cliffhanger and well we have Rendon Howe being an ass. -evilcackle- 
> 
> Anyway, I have at least 4k more words already written and much more to go for this night so there may be another chapter or three JUST for this night. I am NOT joking. So MUCH happens in one night. I have more for the rest of the days and nights as well. I had intended for this to be an introductory to Chateau Haine. Now it's becoming a whole lot more. -sighs-


	40. Chateau Haine, 2nd Night pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the second night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. The aftermath of Rendon's assault and dinner being served.

Rendon _fucking_ Howe had the gall to assault her. He was a dead man walking, but he was now a _much-sooner-_ dead man. Her hand gripped Nathaniel’s arm as Rendon straightened. He sent his son a smug taunting grin. The weight of her daggers a heavy reminder in her corset.

The surrounding guests didn't so much as bat an eye at the display. In fact, those nearby found amusement in Howe’s actions. Some outright laughed and giggled at her expression and others whispered in a great flurry to their companions. Their gazes judging and mocking.  Lena shrunk away from Rendon and the crowds, seeking familiar refuge but there was none.

“I do hope you don’t disappoint my son.” Rendon leered with a dark gaze on her.

“F-father.” Nathaniel rasped, rage and embarrassment over his father’s action.

Small, weak, unable to defend herself, unable to say anything, assaulted in an unfamiliar place surrounded by people who were taller than her and thought themselves better. It felt like high school.

“His lordship, Lord Goran Vael and her ladyship Doña Ferenna.” The sound of the herald announcing another duo snapped Lena away from her memories.

She’d survived high school. She had what it took to do so again. With her teeth grinding hard enough to creak, she pulled her posture up and glowered.  Lena’s plate cracked under the force of her tightening grip. Nathaniel managed to grab the plate from her before it could crack any further and spill.

She wanted to let the reigns on her broiling anger loose but there were too many witnesses. If only they were in a dark corridor like it had been for Baltier, she’d have Howe soap in a matter of hours.

“Rendon!” Sebastian clapped his hand on Rendon’s shoulder as he stepped between him and Lena. “I’m so glad you could meet my _honored companion._ ” Sebastian’s smile was tight, his gaze dangerous as he gripped Rendon’s shoulder a touch too tight. Rendon gave a cringe.

“Your…” Rendon looked at Sebastian and then to Nathaniel.

“I was merely accompanying her until he could arrive.”  Nathaniel spoke lowly and glared.

“My apologies, Prince Sebastian.”

“Yes. I'm sure you are.” Sebastian sneered and brought himself to his full height, chest puffed with his anger. Nathaniel was pleased at the dangerous tone in Sebastian’s voice. Not Lena. Lena was seeing red, wanting to commit murder _again._ The only thing keeping her in check was that there were too many witnesses.

“If you’ll excuse us.” Sebastian touched the small of Lena’s back, drawing her ire as he led her toward a staircase and out to the balcony.

She was fuming, but went that way anyway, teeth grinding as she all but stomped up those stairs until they were out of the salon. The last thing she heard before the balcony doors closed was the herald announcing another guest. “Her ladyship Rinnala accompanied by Peregrinus Arainai.”

“The nerve of that cockfucking son of a bitch’s whore arsehole! _Cabron pinche gordo hijueputa!_ ” Lena growled. “ _Espero que caga y mete en la mierda!_ ”

Sebastian’s brows rose upon hearing the vulgar Antivan slip out from her. He hadn’t even known she could speak the language much less curse with such colorful flair. It flowed out of her with ease, like she was used to the language but rarely spoke it anymore. He hadn’t detected an accent in her usual tongue. She spoke with an odd dialect and accent of Antivan. It was one he had never heard before.

Lena looked to Nathaniel with worry gracing her features.  For a moment she looked ready to apologize.

“I share your sentiment, though mayhaps he should fall face first into the - what was it - _mierda_?” Nathaniel smirked.

“Ha!” She snorted but then growled and paced in place, shaking her hands. “I just had a bath and I want another. UGH!” She rubbed at where Rendon had licked her, wiping the slime with her glove and stripping it off.

“Lena.” Sebastian called.

“I’m going to burn this glove.” She spoke with conviction.

“Lena.”

“I mean who does that?! Seriously? Just - just - licking a woman’s chest like that.  And at court!”

“Selena.” Sebastian tried to draw her from her ranting.

“This _is_ the pleasure palace.” Nathaniel reminded. Lena growled again and stomped in circles, out of Sebastian’s grasp.

Sebastian shot him a glare. “You are not helping.”

Nathaniel laughed and shrugged. The dwarf had a fiery temper and unique way of phrasing her insults.

“The behavior is expected here. Lords and ladies come to relax, they aren’t worried about offending anyone. It is as Duke Prosper says, the Chateau is a retreat from the rigors of court. Though it certainly doesn’t stop the guests from _trying_ to offend.” He explained. “But for my father to do that while you’re on _my_ arm.” Nathaniel scrunched his nose and also growled.

“Oh he did that on purpose. Is that what you’re saying?” Lena seethed.

“Yes.” Sebastian and Nathaniel spoke at the same time.

“So I shouldn’t take it personally?”

“No. That isn’t what we’re saying, but Chateau Haine has a reputation for…” Nathaniel trailed off trying to find the right words. “Inviting certain activities. I shudder to think what he might have done if it wasn’t Sunday.”

“Are you saying he held _back_?” Lena exclaimed, her voice going up in pitch. “Because it’s the Sabbath?”

“No.”  Sebastian said before she broke off in anger again.  “Think of it like an Auction, except everyone is already paid for.” Sebastian explained. “There are certain rules and permissions must be granted.”

Lena screwed her eyes shut and shuddered. “ _Fantastic._ And I’m to have _my girls_ working here.”

“So you _are_ a prostitute?” Nathaniel asked with crossed arms. He suspected but wanted clarification.

“Just because I’m a prostitute does not make that behavior okay. It’s wrong.”  Lena glared.

“I agree.” Sebastian placated to Nathaniel’s surprise.  She sighed, pinching her nose. “We will just stay as far as we can from Rendon for the rest of the evening.”

“That might not be so easy.” Nathaniel said. “But I will endeavor to shield you from my father’s machinations.”

“Oh please do.” Lena grumbled and then added under her breath. “Else I may find myself in need of more soap.” Lena grumbled. Being close enough to hear the last part Sebastian stiffened. “I’m sufficiently calmer now, let us go back, else we will be missed.” She sighed and then rolled her shoulders about to soldier on. Sebastian's light touch had her turn as he gazed down at her.

“I apologize I was not here to accompany you to prevent such a terrible experience from happening.” He spoke lowly, a hand at her chin. At her scrunched nose, he carried on. “But let us not dwell on it. Instead, allow me to just say…” Sebastian cleared his throat. “You are a vision of beauty, Selena.”

Selena rolled her eyes up to look at him, fluttering from the compliment but it was lessened as she got a better look at him. Now that her anger wasn't clouding her vision she could appreciate his more formal attire. It was different than his usual pristine white armor and chainmail he wore around Kirkwall which spoke of his rank and his allegiances. The outfit he wore tonight spoke instead of his heritage, parentage, and culture.

Lena had noted the kilt before but now that she had a moment she was able to take in his appearance. Starkhaven accents were Scottish but she never thought their culture and fashion was so entrenched in Scotland to also have formal _modern_ Highlander dress. The little kilt she knew was modern fashion for the Highlanders. What with it being popular less than 300 years ago so she hadn't expected it here. She’d assumed the average time period of Thedas would be the late 16th century. With oddities like Orlais smack dab in the midst of a Renaissance, Ferelden lagging behind in the 14th century, and dwarves on the cusp of an industrial revolution. The time periods and eras were all a mess. She wondered if there were cowboys somewhere as well. Or perhaps _druffaloboys_. She hoped it was Par Vollen if only for the humor when paired with The Iron _Bull_.

Sebastian wore a short formal black jacket, silver buttons along the lapels and matching ones on his sleeves. Underneath he wore a black vest with similar buttons keeping it closed over a formal white shirt with a black bowtie. Over his shoulders was a belted plaid in black, red, and grey that was clasped with a large pendant with the Vael Family crest. The kilt was in the same plaid colors as the cape with a scaled sporran hanging in front on a leather belt. There were several silver ornaments adorning it. At his belt was a single ornate black and silver dagger and he also wore a sword belt, with a similarly ornate black and silver sword at his waist. Sebastian wore white stockings, which taunted Lena’s curiosity if he was also wearing garters below the kilt. His heeled shoes accentuated his calf muscles and his rump, even if it was hidden below so much cloth.

“Your compliment is appreciated but I think out of both of us...you are the vision.” She purred while circling Sebastian. Chuckling he smiled. “You look good enough to eat.” She breathed. “All primped and proper. My little Sebastian.” She cooed as she pressed against him, her head coming to below his chest. Her hands stretched to his shoulders, guiding his head down so she could whisper into his ear. “If you’re naughty I _will_ take you over my knee and lift that skirt of yours to make your arse as red as your hair.”

His eyes darkened as he angled his head to quiet his groan against her neck. “ _Mama_.”

“Later.” She cooed and stepped back a respectable distance.

Nathaniel had remained silent for the entire exchange. He looked between them, suspicion in his gaze. “Just friends?” Nathaniel hissed to Sebastian who straightened his jacket.

“The very best.” Lena smirked as she stepped to the door. The encounter with Rendon gone from her memory. Nathaniel raised a brow at Sebastian.

“So you say.” Nathaniel added. He found himself less than convinced the more time he spent with them.

“Friends!” Prosper’s voice called out from the center of the room. Forks and plates ceased to clink, glasses were set down and guests stilled turning toward Prosper’s voice. “Honored guests.” Prosper bowed his head toward where King Cailan and his party were. Many a curious sort looked his way but averted their gaze when Anora stepped forward with her arm wrapped around his. “I thank you for joining me at the Chateau. It is always an honor to see so many familiar faces as well as not so familiar join us here.”

Selena leant against the railing looking down at the main floor before looking through the crowd for a horned hennin.

“I hope you enjoyed the hor d'oeuvres. They were selected to stir your…” Prosper chuckled. “ _Appetites_ for this evening’s entertainment.” There was a flurry of laughter and chuckling through the crowd.

“What's so funny?” She questioned beneath her breath to her two escorts. Nathaniel and Sebastian didn't answer but shared a look over her head. Sebastian shook his head at the silent question Nathaniel asked.

“What does he mean by _stir_ your appetites?” Lena squinted, thinking back to the fruits she gorged herself on. “There was nothing stirring about the fruits. If anything they could have used some sugar.” Lena hummed and looked up in thought. The memory of eating fruits back home, they had always been too sweet for her. On Thedas they were a little bitter and not as juicy or big as the ones back home.

“Which fruits did you perchance eat?” Sebastian asked.

“Bit of everything.” Lena shrugged and turned to look at him. His face a bit pale. “Why?” Sebastian touched her forehead and frowned. “Sebastian, what was wrong with them?”

“Maker I thought you would have known.” Sebastian hissed low. “How much did you two have?”

“A nibble or two. Nowhere near as much as her. She had a whole pineapple all on her own.” Nathaniel said.

“Lena!”

“What? I haven’t had pineapples in months. And that was barely a whole pineapple. Maybe half of one.” Selena muttered. “And that’s being generous.” Sebastian furrowed his brows while Nathaniel gave her a disbelieving look. “What has you reacting like I ate - oh Maker. Was it _poison_?”

“No.” Sebastian corrected. “However, most people would not have eaten quite as much as you did.”

“Why?”

“The hors d'oeuvres served are meant to excite and enthrall your _baser_ desires.”

“Baser?”

Sebastian had tried to phrase it delicately but he’d have to be blunt for this. “They were aphrodisiacs.”

“Oh dear.” Lena muttered. Sebastian cringed waiting for the explosion of anger. Instead she gave a laugh and roll of her eyes. “I never took you for the gullible type, Sebastian.”

Nathaniel snorted.

“I- what?”

“Aphrodisiacs don’t work.” She exasperated at both of their bewildered expressions.

“I assure you, Lena, I would not lie about this.” Sebastian fretted. “Are you feeling flush?”

“Oh gosh.” Lena rolled her eyes and turned away.

“Lena, please. It is for your safety. If you ate that many you will begin to feel flush and have an increase in your sexual appetite. And believe me you do _not_ need help in such matters.” Sebastian frowned and looked Lena in the eyes, searching for the signs. Not that he’d be opposed but he wasn’t confident that he’d be enough for an aphrodisiac infused Selena. Her appetites were already large in the bedroom. So for her to have an increase? His cheeks flushed at the thought of _his_ Mama wanting more that what he could offer. He'd need help.

“There is no documentable supporting evidence that suggests aphrodisiacs increase your sexual desires. People just think they are because they resemble certain sexual organs either when the fruit is first blooming, plucked or when cut.” Lena dismissively waved her hand. “Or there is some euphemism with regard to the fruit. Popping your _cherry_. Strawberries when sliced in half resemble a heart, which a heart resembles a woman’s rear end when bent over. Bananas are rather phallic in shape and watching a woman eat one makes the onlookers think she is sucking-”

“We get your point.” Sebastian cut in before she could go on as some other guests looked their way. Lena snickered.

“It’s all in your head thanks to the power of suggestion. You believe it affects you, so it does. Though I don’t know why pineapples would be considered an aphrodisiac.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “Either way it won’t work. I used to have these types of fruits all the time.”

“All the time?” Nathaniel asked.

“A snack in the afternoon everyday.”

“Snack?” Sebastian frowned at the word. It sounded like the language of the Anderfels.

“ _Everyday_?” Nathaniel gulped. “You had fruits like this everyday?”

“Well… not the same fruits. I’d get tired of the same thing. I’d change it up every day. Strawberries, bananas, oranges, watermelons, cantaloupes, figs...”  Lena trailed off as both of her escorts stared at her. “What?”

Sebastian gave her words careful consideration. Given everything he knew of her up until that point, it wasn’t too far off. The cutlery, her appearance, her general demeanor...he did wonder.

“Wait.” With a sly grin, Lena jabbed Nathaniel’s side. “You hadn’t been hoping on those _actually_ affecting me and that’s why you didn’t stop me having a whole pineapple, did you, Nathaniel?” Lena purred.

“No, my lady. I would never-”

Lena gave a wolfish grin. “Never?” Lena caught the flick of his gaze as he checked Sebastian.

“Not with you, my lady.”

Lena was unconvinced but said nothing more as they listened to the end of Prosper’s speech.

“Our next course is served in the main dining hall. Please make your way at your own leisure. There is no assigned seating as this is a retreat. Enjoy yourselves. Relax.” Prosper announced. There was a flurry of activity toward the dining hall.

“Shall we?” Sebastian asked holding his arm out to her. Lena faltered in reaching for it and then looked back at Nathaniel who was resigned to walking with both arms behind his back, alone.

“ _We_ shall.” Lena grinned and looped one arm with Sebastian’s and the other into Nathaniel’s so she was being escorted by them both. Nathaniel stiffened, shocked until he looked down at her and up at Sebastian before she charged forward, dragging them ahead. They were quick to pick up the pace until her strides were too slow for them.

“Lift?” Nathaniel offered over her head with a mischievous glint to his eye.

Sebastian chuckled but nodded. The two secured her arms and lifted her up just enough so she wasn’t walking on her own. Lena gave a squeal, legs flailing as they escorted her off her feet and into the dining hall. She squealed, clenching tight to their sides.

“Put me down, you ingrates!” She seethed. Between their laughter, they didn’t hear her and Lena didn’t want to shout. She wasn’t mad, but she wiggled in a halfhearted attempt to be free. If she was really trying, she would have deadweighted herself like a toddler, but that seemed a bit drastic.

They set her down once they entered the Dining Hall, both _boys_ laughing as she spun on her heel and crossed her arms. “Young _boys_ shouldn’t be carrying off with unwilling women.” She hissed.

“I apologize, my l-pffft.”  Nathaniel tried to say but he was laughing.

“The squeal you made!” Sebastian snickered.

“Did you see how she kicked her legs?” Nathaniel nudged him and the two cackled at her expense.

“Oh har har. Laugh it up boys. I may be shorter than you…” She cooed and stepped closer to them, switching her gaze from one to the other. Her tongue flicked over her lips and both of them ceased laughing, instead they were smiling. “...just remember who is closer to certain, _delicate_ and precious organs. Way. Down. Here.” Her voice was husky and it took a second for both to realize what she meant.

“Oof. My lady, that would hurt.” Interrupted a voice behind her.

Lena’s spine shivered and she looked behind her to see a certain Bann Teagan Guerrin.

“Th-that’s the point.” She stumbled over her words when his devilish grin had her flushing. “My lord.” She breathed with a sigh without intent to do so.

“Teagan!” Nathaniel perked up with excitement.

“Nathaniel! How good to see you again, lad.”

Lena fidgeted as the men greeted each other with a half clasped hug. Her fingers fumbled with her sleeves as she tried to look everywhere but at Bann Teagan, her cheeks still flushed with red. _Damn him, he looks good._ Sebastian looked down at her with a curious sort of expression

“How did you fare the travel?”

“The storm in was a might rough.” Teagan answered.

“The rain up didn’t help matters. But if it rains tomorrow, that will make the hunt interesting.” Nathaniel mused.

“That it will.  Tell me, will you be using a sword or that fancy bow you wrote about.”

“You’ve got a new bow?” Sebastian interjected.

“Your brother thought it an appropriate birthday gift.” Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “ _All the more to best him at long flight with_.”

“Maker, he’s still on about that?”

“We know who to blame for it.” Nathaniel smirked.

“Ah.” Sebastian turned the conversation elsewhere. “I don’t believe we’ve become acquainted. Though I have heard of your exploits in the Marches.” Nathaniel made informal introductions between the two men.

“So we’re both in the know of our more dastardly pasts.” Teagan shared a knowing look between Sebastian and Nathaniel.

Lena watched the interactions with intrigue, curious. Another connection not covered in the books and games. Teagan and Nathaniel. Though it made sense if Rendon was friends with the Couslands and the Couslands had connections with the Guerrins when a Cousland Warden was younger.

“And who is your lovely companion?” Teagan’s question and gaze had Lena shrinking away and sweating.

“M-m-ma-”  She tried, but her mouth popped into an O, horrified at her inability to speak. Her ears as red as her corset and eyes wide. _It’s worse than when I met Varric!_  The corners of Teagan’s eyes crinkled with mirth. Her hand tightened around Sebastian’s arm as she pressed closer, attempting to hide. She swallowed and looked away, looking at anyone but Teagan. “MadameSelenaRiver.” She rushed out before snapping her mouth shut.

“I do believe you’ve enchanted her speechless.” Nathaniel snickered.

“What?” Lena squeaked. “Noooo. No, he didn’t. Hi!” Her voice got higher in pitch. Sebastian guffawed while Lena tucked her head to his cape.

“This is a side of you I haven’t seen.”

“What? No There are no sides.”

“If I make her feel this uncomfortable, perhaps I should leave?” Teagan frowned.

“No!” Lena rasped and then squeezed her eyes shut and groaned into her hand. “I’m fine.” She took a steadying breath. “I apologize.”

“No need to. I find it quite endearing. Usually it takes more than words for women to fall apart in front of me.” Teagan added a wink that had Lena releasing a girlish giggle. She covered her mouth in mortification and groaned when they laughed. Glowering she pushed past her anxiety of meeting another of her in game crushes, falling back on tried and true methods. Humor and flirting. It was easy to use to cover her nervousness, even if she wasn’t serious.

“I’d like to see what is _more than words_ in action.” Lena flirted, feeling herself get comfortable. In the back of her mind however, she would _not_ mind Teagan coming through with his words.

“Be still my heart, you’re opening up.” Teagan smiled.

“I’ll open up a lot more if you keep talking.” Lena shot back, the flush fading. All three men snorted and laughed.

“My the snark on you.”

“I could be less snarky if it pleases you, my lord.” Lena fluttered her lashes in an overdone fashion.

“Please, call me Teagan.”

“If I must.” Lena sighed. “But you, my lord, must always call me _Madame_.”

His brows rose, but the dangerous delicious darkness in his eyes deepened. “I shall be ever dutiful to refer to you as such, Madame.” Teagan flourished a bow and held his hand out. “I am happy to comply to your desires.”

“My dear Teagan, I have so many other desires for you to comply with.” Lena slipped her bare hand into his offered hand. He grinned as he pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Mayhaps you should join us for dinner?”

“Mayhaps indeed.” Teagan consented. “After you, my-” Lena perked a brow. Teagan licked his lips before correcting himself. “Madame.”

Lena led the way to a table, looking back once at her two escorts and Teagan with a coy smile.

There was the head table where Duke Prosper and his mess sat at, already being served an assortment of wine and foods. The chandeliers that hung low cast the room in a low light, but most of the seating light came from the assortment of candles, candelabras, and braziers along the walls and on the tables. The rectangular tables  were arranged down the hall with alternating lavish colored table cloths. Ten upholstered seats surrounded each table, two of which were at either ends.

All around the dining hall nobles gossiped and many hadn’t yet sat down. She chose the table with the least amount of people near and headed that way. She intended to sit nearest the end but the servant at the table pulled out the second seat closest to the end. It would have been rude not to sit there so she did, right until she realized how low the chair was and where she came up to in terms of the table.

Sebastian chuckled as he sat to her right. Nathaniel sat to her left at the end and was grinning. Lena sent Sebastian a dark look as she tucked a leg under her to boost herself up.

“Would you like a cushion, my lady?” The servant who had pulled the seat out asked her when her leg didn’t raise her up enough.

“Laugh one more time. Go ahead I dare you.” Lena growled low at Sebastian before she turned to the servant. “Yes, please.”

Teagan was on Nathaniel’s left, leaving the end seats empty and the entire other-side of the table empty. They were all seated close with little elbow room between them. The chairs did not have armrests, but it was fine with Lena, at least she wouldn’t be smooshed into the chair. Especially when the servant returned with the cushion.  She still had to tuck her leg underneath herself to raise herself up but it meant her other leg was dangling in the air.

“Would like another cushion, my lady?” the elven servant asked again.

Sebastian gave a low bark of laughter that was mimicked by Nathaniel.

“Do you have a book? A heavy thick tome?”  Lena pleaded. The back of her teeth grinding in annoyance.  She was so used to Varric’s chair and tables, this was a huge wake up call. Sure she can handle being nipple height for Sebastian and having to stare at people’s rear-ends (no complaints from her, except when she’s downwind), but this was a little much.

The servant returned with a copy of the Chant of Light, the raised sunburst symbol on the cover. Lena raised a brow at the elf who returned her smile with a cheeky grin.

“I’m sorry, my lady. This was all that that I could find. It should suit your purpose.”

“Thank you.” She smirked and eyed Sebastian as his cheeks flushed red. Anger first until Lena licked her lips. “I think it’s _perfect._ ” As she sat on top of it, his cheeks became red for a different reason as she wiggled her hips and got _comfortable._

“Maker…” Nathaniel coughed into his hand.

“Hmm, I was thinking. Oh _Andraste._ ” She gave a breathy sigh and wiggle of her hips.

“ _Selena._ ” Sebastian hissed. “That’s blasphemous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not Andrastian then.” Lena fluttered her lashes. “But I sure have a lot of confessions to make.”

Sebastian growled. “If you keep that up you’ll be the naughty one tonight.”

Lena sighed, disappointed. “Oh and you were doing so well.” Sebastian’s cheeks lost all bluster and bloom.

“So, how are you enjoying the Chateau, Madame?” Teagan raised his voice with a cough.

“It’s quite a breathtaking palace.” Lena turned her sights on Teagan.  “Rumor has it there is all sorts of traps and even a dungeon below!” She gazed down at her plate setting. The serving plate had the salad bowl on top. On the left hand side was the napkin, which Lena quickly folded onto her lap, followed by the salad fork, dinner fork, and the dessert fork. To the right was the salad knife, meat knife, fish knife, dinner spoon, soup spoon, seafood fork. There was the bread plate, cake fork and spoon, bread plate, and bread knife on the left beyond the plate and on the right was the water goblet, champagne goblet, red wine glass, white wine glass, and sherry glass.

“It’s not only rumor, my lady. It’s a fact.” Nathaniel said low while reaching for his water goblet.

“Hmm. Sounds _dangerous_. I wonder if I’ll come across any.”

“Fret not, if you become ensnared, I shall be sure to swoop down to rescue you.”

“Swoop?” Lena snorted.

“I thought swooping was bad?” Sebastian asked.

“Only when I’m doing it.” Lena snickered. “Teagan can swoop down upon me anytime he wants.”

“Ooh. Madame, I will have to keep that in mind.”

Selena bit her bottom lip, cheeks hurting from her smiling as she tried to grab her water goblet to sip at. She had to lean a bit forward as her arms were a little too short. As she set the goblet down, she gave a critical look at the place setting again. Lena squinted and nudged one of the glasses that was a tad off.

Sebastian and Nathaniel noticed the movement.

“Uncle! You’ve found us a table!” A boisterous boyish man-voice called.

“He didn’t _find_ us a table.” Anora’s low mutter could be heard as she corrected her husband.

Lena stiffened at the presence of the blonde haired King. Considering Teagan was sitting with them, she should have expected this but it still was disconcerting. Especially as Anora came upon the table and next to them was Arl Rendon Howe. Sebastian, Nathaniel, and Teagan rose to greet them. Lena gave a wiggle and slid off the Chant of Light. She came lower in height standing than when she was sitting.

“Your Majesties, might I present Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven and Madame Selena River.” Nathaniel gave introductions. Sebastian gave a formal bow. Try as she might, Lena gave a curtsy but it couldn’t be seen where she stood less than a foot and a half taller than the dining table.

“Madame, Sebastian, I introduce King Cailan and Queen Anora of Ferelden.”

“Yes yes. Now that the boring introductions are over, please sit.” Cailan laughed sitting at the end of the table on Teagan’s left. Anora sat to Cailan’s left, followed by Rendon Howe. Lena’s eye twitched as Rendon gave her a crude grin.

Sebastian leant to whisper in her ear. “Ignore him.” He spoke low enough to her and added a lick to her earlobe intentionally visible and a glower at Rendon who looked away. He helped her back onto her seat as the others sat, at least until he saw a familiar face walking toward the table. “Stay seated.” He laughed as she gave a grumble. Only the men rose as Sebastian greeted a man who looked similar to him, though he had a red beard and kind bright eyes. He too also wore the traditional Highlander dress.

“Sebastian!” The man was almost as loud Cailan but looked every bit the man that he was. Lena looked him up and down.

“Goran. Come join us, cousin.” Sebastian smiled, though his posture was stiff. Introductions were made across the table by rank of importance to King Cailan, Queen Anora, Teagan, Rendon, and Selena.

Once seated again, Lena noted no one had batted an eye to her presence, for which she was grateful. Goran came accompanied by Doña Ferenna who said little but what little Lena did catch was Antivan accented common. She wore a very Orlesian styled mask to hide her identity, which was not uncommon considering there were other Orlesians present who still wore their masks despite the Chateau being far from the Grand Game.

Polite conversations were made as the servants presented a bottle of wine to Cailan. It was poured out into the delicate sherry glass. Lena watched as he grabbed the delicate glass and took a large gulp.

“Yes, it will do.” Anora stated with a sigh.

“Very good, your majesty.” The servant bowed and went around filling the small sherry glasses

Lena grabbed hers once it was served and took a whiff of it. She’d taken a wine appreciation class in her younger college years so this was familiar, even if she knew it was all bullshit. Still she swirled it, let it breathe, and then sipped it before giving a hum of approval and taking a larger sip. Sebastian, Nathaniel, Teagan, and Rendon watched the entire thing with curiosity.

Duke Prosper gave another speech afterwhich the servants brought out bowls of an unrecognizable soup.  Its broth was brown with bits of vegetables she recognized swimming in it. Large chunks of meat floated in it. Lena tilted her head as she watched the soup be served to others in the hall.

With the appropriate spoon she swirled the liquid and lifted it to taste but stopped when she caught sight of Sebastian muttering low with his eyes closed  Others at the table had their eyes closed and were also muttering before they all placed their left hand palms over their hearts and right hand fist over it.  It resembled a star, or a sunburst.

She finally took a sip of the soup when others did and was surprised. It was flavorful and rich. The meat reminded her of veal.

“Oh this is delicious.” Her attention focused on the food because it was new to her. While she loved the rustic and hearty meals Varric would get her, you could only eat nug, ram, and druffalo meat in a stew or as a roast so often before it got boring. This delicate soup was different that her usual and she loved every bit of it. If only she knew what it was so she could make it for herself later. “What is this?”

Sebastian had been watching her as she ate the soup. He had been witness to Selena’s particular enthusiasm regarding cuisine. She never held back her appreciation.

“It is _soupe à la tortue._ ” He answered. Selena was in the midst of chewing a chunk of meat when he answered. A loud gulp followed once she worked out what _la tortue_ meant.

“ _Turtle soup_?!” Cailan had heard and looked aghast at the bowl.

“Oh...oh _no_.” Lena squeaked. She stared at the bowl where it was already half empty. “Who would-who would _kill_ an innocent turtle.” She gave a soft gasp as she swirled the soup.

“Yes!” Cailan pushed the plate away with disgust. “I like turtles. I had a pet turtle when I was younger. How could anyone even stomach killing them?”

“Yes! I mean they are _defenseless_.” She whined in between sips.

“Somehow, my lady. I don’t think it bothers you as much as you are saying.” Teagan smirked.

“Well, it’s not like the poor thing is going to get any _more_ dead.” Lena sighed and spooned up some vegetables. She grabbed her sherry glass and took another sip. “It’d be a waste of the sacrifice.”

“I won't eat it.” Cailan grumped. “All I see is little Franklin swimming in my bowl.”

“You named your turtle Franklin, your majesty?” Lena wanted to snicker but refrained.

“He was so tiny and snappy. Reminded me of our old horsemaster.  Who was also tiny and snappy.”

The plates were taken away as the third course was served. Lena’s nose twitched as the smell of a cheesy garlic sauce had her salivating, right until she saw what the sauce was lathered over.

“Oh...” Lena’s voice became unenthused when she eyed the large shell. “Lovely, the next course.”

“Snails?” Cailan squinted and lowered his voice. “Are these _snails_?” His nose wrinkled.

“ _Escargot_.” Anora corrected.

“Hmm _deliciosa_...” Ferenna moaned next to Goran who gave a grin.

Lena was reluctant to pick up the fork that came with the serving, not that she knew how to use it. She’d never actually eaten escargot in her life and she wasn’t looking forward to it. But it would be rude not to.

“Do I have to?” Cailan was trying to be quiet but his voice _carried_.

“It’s not so bad.” Teagan offered. “Just ah...bit chewy.”

“Giving my mouth a workout is what.” Lena cringed as she discreetly spat the bit into her napkin and spooned it back on her plate. _Nope nope._

Sebastian choked. Nathaniel dropped his fork.

“Pardon?” Rendon asked.

“Did I stutter? I swear my jaw is going to be sore after this.” She stretched her mouth. All the men in the table did a double take.

“Hmm.” Anora gave Lena an appreciative look. “Perhaps chew slower?” She suggested.

“Do you know how long it would take to finish this meal if I did that, your majesty? We’d be here until sunrise!”

“We couldn’t have that.” Anora gave a smile.

Suffice to say Lena didn’t even eat half of the escargot before the next course was served.

“Oh!” It was layered sheet pasta with cheese and herbs. Lena recognized basil and oregano among others. It was lasagna but without the tomato sauce. “Lasagna!” She smiled and picked up the dinner fork.

Doña Ferenna gave a choked cough behind her gloved hand. “I’m sorry did she say-”

“She did.” Sebastian cringed.

“What?” Lena looked up.

“My apologies.” Sebastian offered to the table. Cailan whom was oblivious until Teagan whispered to him what Lena had said with a chuckle. The King let out a snort and tried to keep his face straight before laughing.

“Chambe-haha!” Cailan snickered. “Ow.” He sent Anora a look but schooled his expression at the icy glare he met.

“I didn’t know you spoke Tevene as well.” Sebastian muttered under his breath.

“Antivan and now Tevene. My the skills you have, my lady.” Nathaniel whistled low.

Selena tilted her head in thought. What was the origin of the word _lasagna_? She had no way of knowing.  “I apologize if I offended. But it is what we call this dish back home.”

“Ah.” Came in a collective chorus around the table.

Lena took a bite. The cheese was bitter and warm and there was far too much spice. She gave a small cough. “Hmm.” She took only a few more bites.

“Is it comparable with what you remember from home?” Sebastian asked between bites.

“Not quite. It is similar but the ones from home is usually prepared with a thick tomato sauce."

"Tomato sauce?  Perchance are you thinking of Llomerryn Red?" Ferenna asked. 

"Yes." Lena squinted in thought.  She remembered the recipe from  _The Whole Nug._   "The sauce and cottage cheese is between the pasta and baked with a heavy layer of cheese on top.”  

“Cheese? What kind of cheese?” Cailan perked up. Even Anora looked her way.

“Oh I… I’m not sure you’d be familiar with the cheese.”  She actually wasn’t. Modern mozzarella was very different from its progenitor. Add in all the processes and pasteurization in milk, she wasn’t sure if it would be the same here.

“Madame, I am a fan of cheeses all across Thedas. I would know the cheese.” Cailan boasted.

“It’s true.” Teagan added. “It’s a Ferelden trait.” He shrugged.

“And you’re more Marcher than Ferelden.” Nathaniel snickered.

“True.”

“How can you be more Marcher and hold a title in Ferelden?” Lena squinted. She didn’t remember this.

Cailan gave a chuckle. “My uncle prefers the Free Marches due to the Grand Tourneys.”

“Remarkable tradition.” Teagan had a far off look. “I thought to win the Grand Melee once.”

“Is that why you are here, my lord?” Lena tilted. “To attend the Kirkwall Tourney?”

“In part.”

Cailan leant forward hand on Teagan’s shoulder as though conspiring with friend. “We’re here for the Wyvern Hunt.” He spoke  with his free hand covering his mouth so Anora didn’t catch it.

“I’m sitting right next to you, dear.” Anora rolled her eyes.

“The Hunt?” Selena smiled but frowned. It was 9:27 Dragon, shouldn’t King Cailan be preparing for the Blight?

“The Wyvern Hunt is by invitation only.” Goran provided. “Duke Prosper is known for the lavish balls he throws surrounding it. It is serendipitous that the Kirkwall Tourney is happening simultaneously.”

“Wasn’t the Duke also the last Grand Tourney’s Patron?” Ferenna questioned.

“Oh and what a victorious Grand Tourney it was.” Teagan jumped at the chance to talk about it. “The Grand Melee lasted the full week. I didn’t make it past the fourth day of rounds but I was outmatched by many a great warriors.” Teagan regaled the table with the battles of the last Grand Tourney as the next course was served.

Lena eyed the white slush and spooned a bit in her mouth.  It was a palate cleanser and tasted like almonds and cream. “Oooh. Granita!” She cooed. “Aww, pity this wasn’t served during breakfast with a brioche.” Lena sipped on the liquid.

“ _Claro que si!_ ” Doña Ferenna agreed and turned her full attention to Lena. “ _Quizás con una tortilla de huevos_?”

“ _¡Diablo_ ! _No tenido tortillas en tanto tiempo!_ ” Lena groaned slipping out the barest conversational Spanish she knew. The Doña spoke with her in quick blurts back and forth, talking about food they missed. All traditional Spanish and, as it turned out, Antivan foods. There was a smattering of Italian mixed in. They both forgot themselves as they quipped back and forth.

A large serving cart was wheeled out and Lena and Doña both exclaimed in excitement at the roasted sow and her sucklings.

“ _¡Pernil! ¡Oh esto iría bien con arroz!_ ”

“ _¡Y tostones!_ ” Lena added.

“ _¿_ _Tostones, que eso?_ ” Ferenna asked.

“ _¿Nunca has tenido tostones?_ ” Lena gasped and lapsed into explaining how to prepare the green plantains.

All the while the two women spoke of food, the men of the table had watched. Sebastian was amused, having not seen Lena this excited for anything that wasn’t _bedroom_ based, ever. It was endearing and he listened to her Antivan roll off her tongue, the R’s purring as she spoke quicker and quicker. It got to the point even the Doña had to ask her to slow down.

Goran was amused his date and Sebastian’s were becoming well acquainted.

“You know Sebastian, it was odd to see you here.” Goran said, letting the women speak as another glass of wine was served, but this one had a single silvery drop rolling around at the bottom of the glass. He set the glass aside as did many others.

“Elthina sent me in her stead. I’ve told you.” Sebastian made polite conversation.

“Yes. I would have believed that at one point, but...” Goran’s bright azure gaze trailed to Nathaniel. “Back with your old flame and engaging in a _ménage à trois_ again?”

Selena was in the midst of listening to Ferenna but took a moment to glance at Goran.  _That_ particular French/Orlesian she knew. Though a  _ménage à trois_? Old flame? Lena looked at Nathaniel whose ear tips were flaming red as he looked everywhere but at Sebastian and her. Pursing her lips she grinned. 

“That is not the purpose to my presence.” Sebastian gave a sigh, expecting the accusation. “I am here as the attending Brother.”

“Oh certainly. I'm sure your brothers would be pleased to know you’ve picked up your old…” Here Goran looked to Lena who was grinning as she grabbed the new wine glass. “...habits.”

"If his old habits include a  _ménage à trois_ _,_ my lord. Perhaps then you would like to join?" She tilted her head. " _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi_?" 

" _¿Otra vez?_ " Ferenna giggled. Goran's lips parted as his throat ran dry.  

"Pity, but I will certainly hold you to that." Lena chuckled before sniffing and sipping at the new wine glass.

Sebastian had a morsel of pork in his mouth and had stopped chewing at Lena's words. He gave a harsh swallow just as Lena downed her glass, the silvery drop disappearing as well. 

“Selena!” Sebastian and Nathaniel exclaimed when she set the glass down.

“¿ _Que_? That was good wine. Could I have another glass?” She asked the servant who had placed the glass down.

“No she won’t.” Sebastian hissed.

“Oh let her have another glass.” Doña Ferenna said as she also grabbed a second glass. “This wine... _es débil comparación con que tenemos en Antiva._ ”

“ _Como si pudiera detenerme._ ” Lena snorted as she grabbed not one but two more glasses.

Sebastian gulped at the challenging look in Selena’s eye. Ferenna and Lena grinned as they clinked glasses across the table and drank both wines in quick succession.

Teagan cleared his throat drawing their attention. “So what is that particular wine?” He made a point to raise his voice and spoke in clear common.

Lena’s cheeks tinged red. It was rude to speak in another language when others couldn’t understand. Her first faux pas and at Chateau Haine of all places. Ferenna sipped at her water goblet, making eye contact with Lena through her mask.

“A bit sweet with a hint of zest. The smell was very bitter and you should have let it breathe.” Anora spoke up as she sipped at her glass. “Carnal, 8:69 Blessed.  An Orlesian liqueur for those wishing to seem daring.”  Anora gave an apologetic look toward Lena but a mistrustful one toward Ferenna.

“Ah. Carnal. Yes. You used to have a few bottles of it in your youth, didn’t you Sebastian?” Goran smirked.

“Yes. Sadly, I no longer partake of such wines.” Sebastian grit his teeth.

“Is it not said to enhance _sensation?_ ” Rendon spoke up, staring at Selena with interest.

“Speaking from experience…” Sebastian looked down at Lena as she bristled under Rendon’s attentions. His chest puffed and he laid an arm over her shoulder, his fingers trailing over her exposed collarbone while glaring at Rendon across the table. “I would say it is mostly in one’s mind. The wine certainly has a unique taste. But I am most concerned with how it was served. There was a tiny droplet of orichalcum in each glass.”

“Oh!” Ferenna sat straight up, her mouth opened in shock before a grin like the cat that caught the canary. “Oh dear. And I drank _three_ glasses.”

“That you did.” Goran smirked, looking forward to the evening ahead. “You’ll be having _quite_ the evening as well, cousin.”

Selena fluttered her lashes up at Sebastian. “What does Orichalcum do?”

“According to Lord Cerastes in An Alchemical Primer of Metallurgy, it is a potent aphrodisiac when mixed with wine.” Sebastian whispered to her. “Please do tell me if you feel flush.”

“Sebastian. Aphrodisiacs don’t work.” She whispered back.

“You say this, but you had _three_ glasses. I only worry.”

“I appreciate the concern, but it won’t affect me like you think.”

“Your boundless optimism confuses me, _Mama_.” he breathed into her ear.

“Contract.” Lena hissed.

“Yes. _Mama_.”

“Little shit.” Lena huffed to his amusement.

She lapsed into silence as the others discussed polite politics. She did take note of some things but she was unfamiliar with most of the political situations. She drank a bit more of her water, feeling parched.

Her gaze fell to Goran Vael who was speaking to Ferenna in hushed tones, the two giggling. He was dressed in the similar Highlander kilt and formal dinner jacket as Sebastian.

Lena wiggled on top of the chant of light as she admired the strong cut of Sebastian’s frame. He was tall and broad shouldered with a strong nose.  His profile was distinguishing and regal. Paired with his high cheekbones, vibrant eyes and auburn red hair, she wondered why so many months ago she hadn’t figured it out immediately that it was him. It was obvious now.

Though being in a brothel hadn’t helped. Who would have thought, Choir Boy with his Andraste belt buckle of chastity spent his early morns sleeping his way through every whore in the Rose and then some, according to what she’s heard.  

Selena smirked. She felt a bit playful and she did have to dole out a bit of punishment to her _naughty_ boy next to her. With her hands in her lap she turned to Sebastian.

“You know, I wonder if you’re in all formal dress, Sebastian.” She asked low enough where only Sebastian and Nathaniel heard. Nathaniel perked up from cutting a piece of pork.

Sebastian’s utensils made a loud screech against the plate and he coughed. His body stiff as he felt silken smooth fingers on his bare knee. If it was only that, he would have understood. But his kilt rode up as short fingers trailed up his tightening thigh and cupped his bare cock.

Other members of the table paused and looked his way. He gulped down what he’d been chewing and gave an apologetic smile. They continued their dinner conversations.

With discretion, Sebastian placed his hands in his lap to push his kilt back in place. Lena’s hands nowhere near him but he did glance at her lap. She wiggled again, this time slower and with a undulating motion of her hips and waist.

Sebastian took a sip of water as he tried to put it out of his mind what Selena was wiggling against. Or he tried to, but those Maker damned fingers were back on his thigh, and this time he was already becoming hard.

“Maker…” he grunted and tried to grab her hand to stop her, pushing his kilt back in place. All of her machinations going on underneath the table and the only ones aware were him and Lena. Though with a quick look, he hazard a guess that Nathaniel was aware _something_ was happening.

“Are you alright there, Sebastian?” Goran asked. “You look a bit flushed.”

Sebastian returned to eating and would have answered but Selena put her hands on his thigh again. He had only returned to holding his utensils. It would be odd if he set them down again.

“Ah…” his brained stoppered when Lena’s skillful sinful hand cupped him and turned his way.

“He does look a bit red.” Lena cooed. Using her left hand she touched his forehead.

“I'm fiiiiine.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps a bit too much wine is all.” It was a poor excuse and his cousin knew it. But his cousin was easy to manipulate.

“Oh dear.” Lena tutted, her voice shifting to one he knew.  “Drink some more water, it should _help_.”

With a glower he did drink more water, but it was slow because he expected the next motion. His whole body taut as her hand under his kilt ran up and down his cock.

The water didn't help. His legs shifted wide to give Lena more room and discretion but he reached down with one hand and meant to grip hers but it was gone. He released a low breath.

Surveying Lena’s cheeks, they weren't flushed and her eyes were normal as ever. She went back to cutting up the slices of pork into smaller sections so she could finish her plate.

The rest of the course was uneventful but Sebastian now had a throbbing affliction. He was willing his erection to disperse as the next course was served when the hand returned.

This time he was ready. He caught her hand, preventing her from continuing. Sebastian shifted to her and made to whisper - plead with her to stop. To tell her he told her so about the aphrodisiacs. After all that fruit and three glasses of that specific wine, he'd been expecting something. He hadn't expected this. He was ready to say all this and to excuse them so he could take care of her.

But he met her gaze and her pouty pink lips stretched into a teasing smile. Her eyes wide and glossy but her pupils were normal.

“You need only say _red_.” She singsang to him.

Sebastian gulped as he took her in. Her skin wasn't flushed but as he breathed harsh he got a whiff of her scent. Of the perfume she wore as the heat of the hall had her sweating. The nape of her neck glistened and he shuddered wishing to lick along it, but that would be _naughty._

“ _Well?_ ”

He didn't say red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame this chapter's length FULLY on LonelyAgain and Spellweaver. They just kept... GIVING ME IDEAS. So many ideas. It's endless. And I vetted each of them and decided, YES they will be included. I still have one more for this 2nd Night and based on the end of this one I'm sure you know what the next chapter will be about.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Some Height Reference for these Chateau Haine Chapters and because Iron Bull is literally the TALLEST character in game, he’s included.  
> 
> 
>  
> 
>  _cabron pinche gordo Hijueputa!_ \- Dumbass fucking Fat son of a bitch. Pinche is meant to spice up cursing and doesn't mean anything in this context. Sort of like in English we use fucking. like The Iron-Fucking-Bull or Too fucking loud.  
>  _Espero que caga y mete en la mierda!_ \- I hope he shits and steps in it!  
>  _mierda_ \- shit
> 
> Lasagna - the Latin root word is Lasanum which is either Chamber Pot or Cooking Pot. I thought it'd be funny if it meant the former. 
> 
> _Claro que si!_ \- Of Course!  
>  _Quizás con una tortilla de huevos_ \- Maybe with an omelette  
>  _¡Diablo ! No tenido tortillas en tanto tiempo!_ \- Devil! I haven't had omelette in so long! (She's referencing the tortilla de huevos mentioned prior)  
>  _¡Pernil. ¡Oh esto iría bien con arroz!_ \- Pork thigh! Oh this would go great with rice!  
>  _¡Y tostones!_ \- And fried plantains!  
>  _Tostones, que eso?_ \- Fries Plantains? What are those?  
>  _¿Nunca has tenido tostones?_ \- You've never had fried plantains?  
>  _ménage à trois_ \- Threesome (both romantically and sexually)  
>  _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?_ \- Would you like to sleep with me?  
>  _¿Otra vez?_ \- Another day?  
>  _Que?_ \- What?  
>  _es débil comparación con que tenemos en Antiva._ \- Is weak compared to what we have in Antiva.  
>  _Como si pudiera detenerme._ \- As if he could stop me.


	41. Chateau Haine, 2nd Night pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third part of the second night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. The conclusion of Selena's shenanigans at the dinner table.

Sebastian stared at the sweet cheese tart that was served. It's golden crisp crust tantalized all at the table. The glistening apricot glaze on top wafted sweet scents around. Yet Sebastian did not so much as touch it. He hadn't even lifted his desert fork to begin eating.

No his hands were engaged elsewhere with one firmly grasping the edge of the table and the other tucked in his lap, trying to keep his cock down while Selena’s teasing and torturous fingers were busy cutting into her tart and eating it.

She'd granted him a short reprieve. A reprieve he both wanted and hated. She knew exactly how to toy with him and his sensitivities, knew the way to slide her fingers and palm against him, knew where to touch and rub. He was hard and it would take coming to completion for his weeping aching affliction to wane.

Selena set her fork down. He throbbed in anticipation.

She'd taken a bite and proceeded to chew extraordinarily slow. Her right hand disappeared under the napkin on his lap and inched across his bare thigh, sliding beneath his kilt to grip his length. His throat clenched, thighs strained as she tested his resolve. He found it difficult to keep from thrusting into her palm as she slid against him but he abstained.

Obscene sounds came from his lap. The wet sounds of her fingers circling around his head and sliding up and down his length with increasing tightness. He could hear it and he swore everyone at the table could too. Yet no one looked their way. No one looked scandalized or disgusted.

He schooled his expressions best he could and lifted his dessert fork to finally take a bite when _Mama_ ’s thumb pressed against his all too sensitive cock slit, rubbing his pre-ejaculant in and around. He gave a low growl and once again had to grip the table.

Selena’s hand disappeared from his lap and surfaced. Her fingers glistened with his wetness yet she paid no mind as she took another bite of tart. Even licking her fingers.

Checking each person at their table, none showed signs of being alerted to Selena’s machinations. He thanked the Maker for that. He wasn't sure which was worse: that they hadn't noticed or that he was disappointed they hadn't. Sebastian shifted, looking across the table too afraid to reach for his tart, sure Selena would descend on his lap again. He was wound tight and flinched when she spoke next to him, loud.

“This tart’s delicious.” Selena called attention her way at the proclamation. “I wonder what cheese it is…”

King Cailan perked up, choking on the bit of tart in his throat.

“It’s a soft white whey cheese, Madame.” Teagen called with a queer sort of smile. Sebastian met his gaze and saw him flick down toward his lap. Perhaps they _had_ noticed. Sebastian eyed Cailan who was blissfully unaware as he took a long drink from his wine before speaking.

“It’s manouri cheese. From Tevinter. Made from goat and sheep milk.” Cailan enthused as he explained. “Notable not because of the sour taste but of the nutty and hint of tang and it’s texture. Its-”

“Creamy.” Selena added, tucking _both_ her hands under the table and leaning forward, apparently eager to hear more.

Sebastian counted the breaths it took for Selena’s hands to find their way to him again.

“Yes! They add the cream to the whey and thats why it has the texture it does. Its smooth. It’s a fantastic cheese created as a consequence when producing feta.” Cailan sighed and gave a low hum of approval as he took another bite of the tart.

Selena’s rubbed underneath the rim of his head as she pushed his foreskin back. Her feather light touches making his abdomen jolt in anticipation.

Her hand became wet again. He tossed all manners aside and leant his chin in his hand, elbow firmly rested on the table as he pretended to listen to Cailan but his mind was reasonably distracted.

“It's a great addition in the tart, though perhaps there is too much sugar. I’ll have to ask Cook to make this at the castle.”

“Another cheese tart to add to your recipe, your majesty?” Rendon sighed.

“I’m not sure Prosper’s chef will give it up.” Teagan mused.

“Hmm.” Cailan pouted.

“How many different types of cheeses have you had, your majesty?” Selena asked to the horror of Teagan, Rendon and Anora who had sent her pleading looks. Even Teagan had tried to wave at her to get her to stop but Cailan perked up, seemingly unaware to the expressions of the others.

“Well…” Cailan began with a grin and began listing them. Anora sighed and discarded all manner of decorum and set both elbows on the table to rub her temples. Teagan, a little more accepting, gave a placating sigh and prepared to sit for a long while. Rendon gave a groan between a tight smile.

All the while Sebastian watched Selena wiggle her arse against the Chant of Light, her thighs spread as she rolled her hips in a move he recognized and she matched the maneuver with her hand, how her tight wetness would feel when she moved that way. He could scarcely look away from her shifting bottom but he had to. Tearing his gaze up he met Nathaniel’s who perked one intrigued brow up. Nathaniel’s hand draped over the back of Lena’s chair as she leant forward to listen to the king. It gave Nathaniel room to move forward and speak in hushed tones.

“Why do you not stop her?”

“Would you?” Sebastian whispered as Lena’s hips rolled again. The wide set of her hips and large arse were plump against the good book.

Her hand in his lap gave a twist and pull before dipping to cup his balls and press at the base of his cock. Two fingers working in a circle. He held back a moan but Nathaniel could see it on his expression, even as he ducked his head down to hide. His teeth bit his bottom lip before he face the table again.

Nathaniel frowned as he considered his answer. He made to turn back to the table but stilled when Lena gave a teasing smile up at him before directing her attention back at the King.

Or so it seemed.

Nathaniel’s shoulders stiffened and he retracted from her chair as her hand wandered to his lap. She gave a tentative slow stroke up his thigh and then down. _A mistake surely, maybe even an innocent gesture._ He went to still her hand. Until she cupped him, her thumb pressing against the laces of his trousers threatening to undo them. Unlike Sebastian he wasn't so laid bare beneath his trousers. He had his smalls on and even if Selena could remove his laces, it wouldn't be prudent. Too many people would notice.

Of course this did not stop her teasing as she concentrated her efforts on giving rise to an uncomfortable problem of tightness.

Sebastian observed with a twinge of jealousy that his _mama_ was directing her attentions to Nathaniel. It was short lived as Selena’s hand called his attentions back to her ministrations. He glanced down at his lap briefly before looking up, hoping none caught wind. That was when he met his cousin’s smug look. He noted that Ferenna had been inspired by Selena as Ferenna’s hands were not present on the table. Goran beside her relaxing back and slouching against his chair. While Selena could hide her arm movements due to her lack of height; it was obvious what Ferenna was doing and Goran didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by it.

Nathaniel restrained a low whine as Selena flexed her fingers over his trousers. He was no fool to not enjoy the attentions but even he knew proper table etiquette and this was not it. He held her hand still but while she couldn’t do much else, it was her fingers that now lavished him with attention. Attention he thought she would only give Sebastian. He was proven wrong.

Swallowing, he appeared to pay rapt attention to the King as he spoke about a strong stringy cheese from Antiva. Nathaniel nodded his head, but his body was tense as Selena’s fingers dug into his thigh. He sent a pleading look toward Sebastian to cow _his_ woman but his old friend was in a similar predicament as him. The dwarfess could stroke both men at the same time, one directly and the other through leather.   _Maddening._

“Enjoying yourself?” Teagen asked as the servants now came to clear the plates and served coffee with beignets.

Nathaniel had no words. If he said no...the implications that he couldn’t stop one dwarfess would color his cheeks. But if he said yes then he was no better than all the other men at the Chateau with intent to _enjoy_ themselves. He was not here to partake in the services, he was here only to join in the Hunt and the Tourney, that was all.

He told himself this, even as he directed Selena’s fingers closer. _Maker, damn Selena and her machinations._

“Hmm.” Selena examined the cup with a squint. “Oh… this is _coffee_.” She frowned.

“Is something wrong, Madame?” Teagan asked.

“I haven’t had coffee in three years.” She stated and took in a larger breath, inhaling the scent with her eyes closed. She sighed and granted both men at her sides a reprieve as she examined the coffee with a sip.  At the shake of her head, she dropped two cubes of sugar and poured cream before stirring it. She took another sip and let out a pleased hum.

“How is it?” Teagan asked as he mirrored Selena’s selection of cubes and cream. As did Cailan and Anora.

“Just as I remembered. I used to have a cup everyday. Though the strength is different, There are dozens of ways to prepare coffee but I’m more of a traditionalist when it comes to it.  I drink only a double espresso with milk and sugar.” Selena smiled but then frowned as the entire table was looking her way with interest. She noted they all had prepared their cups in the same way, except for Ferenna and Goran. She thought back to what she said. Would they have the different ways to make coffee?  Flavored, certainly not but they should at least have espresso - _right? Shit…_ she didn’t have a working knowledge of coffee history.

“Espresso?” Ferenna asked as she did not pour cream into her cup and drank it black.

“It’s a brewing process.  It requires finely ground coffee beans, so fine it’s a powder.” Lena recalled careful not to use any unusual words. “And then you force a small amount of boiling water under pressure through the ground coffee beans.”

Ferenna stirred sugar into her cup but nodded. “I can imagine the result of the coffee would be rich.”

“And thicker than most coffee. A bit frothy too.” She sipped. “It is decidedly more bitter though.  Nothing a sprinkle of salt won’t fix to make it a bit sweeter.” Lena muttered and eyed the servant who disappeared to fetch some salt. She added only sprinkle. The salt went around the table, Teagan and Cailan added a touch, though Ferenna and Anora refrained.

“You used to drink a cup of coffee a day?” Cailan asked with raised brows. “I believe this is my first time having it.”

“Hmm, with breakfast every morn.” Selena let slip, relishing in the now sweeter taste of her coffee.

“It isn’t your first time, Cailan. The last time was the trip to the Anderfels. They drink it fairly often there.” Anora explained.

“As is to be expected.  This particular bean is an import from the Donnarks.” Ferenna added. “It is a pity they do not trade it often, it is a wonderful alternative to our own beans in Antiva.  You seem to know a great deal about coffee, Madame. Are you from a merchant’s family that has dealings with the Donnarks or Antiva?”

“No. Ah drinking coffee is more of a hobby.” Selena tried to downplay her association but that didn’t help as the table seemed more interested.

“Interesting. How much do you charge for a night in your bed that you’re able to afford such a hobby?” Rendon leant forward. The table was silent. Cailan furrowed his brows seemingly confused by the wording. Anora squinted but understood Rendon outing Selena as a prostitute. Ferenna gave a curious if unperturbed look, unsure why Selena being a prostitute was such a scandal to silence the others. Goran watched Sebastian as the man was outright growling and glaring at Rendon, he flicked his gaze to Nathaniel who was appalled by his father.

Selena laid one hand on Sebastian’s thigh, to calm him.  With as much grace and confidence as she could muster, she sent Rendon a withering glance.

“If you have to ask the price, Howe, then you couldn’t afford me. You may gaze upon me and dream of the wealth required to possess me.  As have lords and kings.”

Rendon stilled as the words slapped him. Lena picked up a beignets and tore it in half. She was unaffected by the humored look from Cailan, impressed smile from Anora, and the relieved posture from Sebastian. Teagan was as amused as his nephew but he was snickering as he sipped at the coffee.  Ferenna was unfazed, too busy with what was going on under the table to care.  Goran was adequately engaged by his partner.

Nathaniel was quiet, looking down and away from his father whilst covering his mouth - hiding the smug laughter he wished to release.

“And what of a taste?” Rendon leered, his gaze on the exposed flesh of Selena’s upper chest and collarbone.

“A stolen taste is all you will and _have_ ever received.” Lena didn’t miss a step. “But I’ll be sure to send your wife my bill.”

Before Rendon could explode as suggested by his frown and the tick in his brow, Anora rose from the table. The men stood as was custom, or most of them. Sebastian had trouble standing.

“I believe it is time for us ladies to retire to the Salon.” Anora gave a tight smile toward Cailan.

“Oh. Yes! We’ll be going to the smoking room.” He gave a bow to Anora.

Lena rose off her seat as well, her hands trailed along both Sebastian and Nathaniel’s thighs and she followed after Anora who was joined by Ferenna.  The table of men were silent as they watched the women go.

Nathaniel was the first to move, grabbing the Chant off Lena’s vacated seat.

“Perhaps this may help you, Vael.” He slid it to Sebastian who glowered but stopped when a musky scent wafted up off the Chant.  The raised symbol of the sunburst glistened.

“ _Maker_.”

“She’s got a mouth on her.” Rendon spoke with bitterness.

Nathaniel snorted at his father. “One I’m sure, Sebastian and I will make full use of tonight.” His chest puffed as he pressed his palms to Sebastian’s shoulders and whispered into his old friend’s ears. “Won’t we?”

Sebastian gripped the chant but raised up, unapologetic of the slight lift in his kilt. “I dare say we will.” He grinned and turned, nodding his head to his cousin who was more than amused. He would need to discuss with him later about exactly what he witnessed. But for now, he required a bit of privacy.

“Whereever did you find her?” Nathaniel whispered as he led Sebastian out. He intended to take him to his quarters but Sebastian had other plans.

“I didn’t.” Sebastian mused as he raked the corridors for a door. They passed servants filtering into the dining hall, ready to clean up. “She found me.”  He grabbed Nathaniel’s arm and shoved him into one of the doors, and into a small closet filled with towels. It was dark but there was enough light filtering through underneath the door that after a moment he could see.

“Nathaniel, I need you.” He rasped and turned on his friend.

“What?” Nathaniel stumbled back.

“I know Mam-Madame.”  He stuttered over her title and released a breath. “I know her. She will not grant permission for release if I ask her. Going behind her back alone is bad enough but Maker I want to get back at her for teasing me. The gall to do so at the table and with my cousin right there. Maker! I won’t be surprised to get a missive from Mother and Father about this. Goran isn’t known for being discreet.” Sebastian sighed.

“Permission?” Nathaniel had heard most of what he’d said but was stuck on the one word. “Why would you need permission?”

Sebastian’s throat dried. He’d let that word slip. “I…”

“Oh. Oh dear.” Nathaniel grinned. Though the darkness of the closet prevented him from seeing Sebastian, his silence told all he needed. “Needing permission from a dwarfess. What has Sebastian Vael gotten himself into?”

“You know more of my proclivities than anyone else.”

“Only because you were insatiable. Dragging me around to cover for your promiscuity.”

“Come now Nathaniel. I seem to recall many times where you engaged the ladies with me. Else you wouldn’t have suggested we do the same with Selena.”

Nathaniel scoffed. “I just wanted to see my father’s smile wiped away.”

“Are you sure that’s all you wanted?” Sebastian stood to his full height and stepped chest to chest to Nathaniel, his hand cupping Nathaniel in his trousers.

“Sebastian.” Nathaniel growled and pushed him off, but Sebastian was pressing a kiss at his jaw, where he remembered Nathaniel liked all those years ago. Sebastian’s tongue lavished the space between Nathaniel’s throat and ear. The squire rasped against him, fingers digging into his shoulder before he pushed him away.

“You’re a bastard, Sebastian.”

“Let’s not bring my father into this.” Sebastian grinned. “Well, not again.”

“Th-that was an accident!”

“A young squire’s crush on the ruling Prince. Yes… a _complete_ accident.” Sebastian teased.

“You’re a-”

“A what?”

“Shut. Up.” Nathaniel growled whilst gripping the smug Prince by his hair. Sebastian released a deep chuckle in the back of his throat but swallowed Nathaniel’s growl and nipped his lips.

“Did you enjoy her teasing you?” Sebastian emphasized by unlacing Nathaniel’s trousers and sliding his hand against his abdomen and down. He cupped his once beloved, stroking him.

“She’s mad.” Nathaniel groaned.

“Just wait until you really see how daring she can be.” Sebastian cooed.

“What do you mean?”

“Remember the Masques?”

“Masque?” Nathaniel bucked as Sebastian lowered himself to his knees in front of him.

“Ludlow Villa?” Sebastian smiled as he recalled some of Selena’s techniques that she had used on him.  He gathered his saliva and slid Nathaniel’s foreskin back. Though he couldn’t see, touch was more than enough for him to know where everything was. It was as familiar to him as every whore in Starkhaven was with his name. A vulgar comparison but he’d spent much time _thanking_ Nathaniel for pretending to be his lover.  He smiled, a tightness in his chest as he wet Nathaniel’s length.

“Ah. The _Masque_.” Nathaniel recalled the Masque at the Villa, years ago.  Women and men in strappy leathers, furry underwears and chains.  Elves and humans alike, strung up and whipped with thin leather bindings, blindfolded. A masque at the Villa was not unlike the Chateau Haine, but where the Chateau boasted retreat and relaxation, the Villa was a sanctum of revelry and delights most deviant. Naturally, Sebastian sought an invitation and dragged Nathaniel along to his initial chagrin. He’d met a fetching elven dancer there who’d been flexible in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Nathaniel had one night with her before Sebastian found him and demanded he share his prizes - together. With her pressed between them, it was the first time he and Sebastian had kissed, at the elven girl’s insistence.

Nathaniel grunted when Sebastian’s lips set about dirtying themselves on him. Lips stretched as his tongue swirled.  He jolted when Sebastian’s teeth raked against him light enough to elicit a throb.

“Oh fuck… Maker!” Nathaniel groaned. _Where had he learned that?!_

Sebastian’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked up toward Nathaniel. He could make out Nathaniel’s head thrown back in the darkness. As much as he wanted to take his time to devour Nathaniel and refresh his memories of his gasps and moans, he wanted them to have an edge whence they later teamed up on Selena. If Nathaniel was serious about what he’d said anyway. _Maker he hoped he was._

Sebastian didn’t have trousers to undo, so with a raised knee he gripped and stroked himself to the pace of his tongue and lips.  His head bobbing as he worked Nathaniel closer. He might have taken a shortcut and slipped a finger a bit further down. Selena had shown him the base of the cock, right between the balls was almost as effective as his arsehole. He rubbed, pressing there with his unoccupied hand.

“Sebastian…” Nathaniel groaned and thrust into his mouth.

Sebastian chuckled but worked him over, burying his nose in the swath of of hair at the base of Nathaniel’s cock. He tightened his lips, hollowing his cheeks and created a vacuum much in the same way Selena did to him.  Then he began to defile the chant by humming it.  The taboo, the forbidden, and vile dirty nature of what he was doing with thoughts of the Chant had his cock weeping. His hand slicked with wetness.  Spent as he was, he concentrated on Nathaniel. His hands joining his bobbing and his own seed used to further lubricate his motions.

With each slurp, Nathaniel moaned. Yet as he grew closer to his release, he couldn’t help but look away from Sebastian. Tears pricked at his eyes from holding back until he shuddered and slumped against the wall. Sebastian’s frame hovered close until he stopped panting.

“You’ve learned some new tricks.” He managed to remark to the Prince, if a bit bitter. Who was teaching his old friend these things? Yes they had partook in quite a many risque events, shrouded to hide their identities, but this… Sebastian had been rather inexperienced in what to do with a cock in his mouth in their youth. Which was no surprise given how often he found himself lost between the legs of every lady who looked his way. This was - _is_ new.  Nathaniel grit the back of his teeth at the thought of the dwarfess.  Surely not her?

Sebastian hummed and swallowed Nathaniel’s cum, raising his hand to lick what was left of his own seed. “That I have, my friend.”

 

* * *

 

Selena glared at the Orlesian women that snubbed Anora as the Ferelden was turned away from another table. After they had entered the Salon, Ferenna and Selena had separated. Not because they wanted to ignore Anora but because Ferenna wanted to introduce Selena to some of the people she brought with her that Selena might have _things_ in common with.  The Ferelden Queen hadn’t so much as let it bother her.  Lena tracked her movements across the Salon as she spoke a few words to some of the Orlesian women.  They dismissed her and Anora left the table with grace.

She felt a bit bad and glowered at the masked women.  They reminded her of Regina, Gretchen, and Karen with Anora as the unwitting Cady trying to fit in. Pursing her lips, Selena looked away and toward Ferenna who was walking back to their little table with an equally masked woman and man.  Though both were shorter than her and slighter.  

Their masks were unique in that they were feathered.  Where the woman wore a red feathered one, the man wore a black one with hints of red streaked through. The entire headpiece kept their long blonde locks back and covered most of their ears. The eyes peering through were large. Their skins a healthy golden glow added to the aesthetic.

Ferenna spoke to them softly and Lena heard the words ménage à trois spoken before they both looked at her and gave simple bows.

“ _Have you perchance heard of the Antivan Crows?_ ” Ferenna questioned in Antivan with a tilt of her head.

Lena kept her features schooled, not wanting to give up that not only did she know about the Crows, she’s seduced one. In spirit of course.

“ _I have. Though only in what they do for Antiva"_

“ _These are my bodyguards."_  She presented the two. “ _Lady Rinnala and her escort Peregrinus Zevran.  Both of House Arainai."_

There was a brief moment where Selena refrained from squealing as she stared. But then the names made her trip up.

“ _Arainai?"_ Selena squinted and looked at the feathered masked woman. _Rinnala? Like Rinna?_ She couldn’t tell and she was sure if she asked, it wouldn’t go over well.

“ _You’ve heard of House Arainai."_ It wasn’t a question, but an observation by the masked male. His voice thick with familiar Antivan charm and a playfulness that tried to distract from the calculating way he looked at her.  Selena had to blink at him to refrain from squealing. _That voice!_

“ _I have. I’ve heard of it in passing._ ”

“ _Oh?_ ” Ferenna perked up and sat across from Lena. The other two following her and sitting on either side of her.

“ _What have you heard?"_  Rinnala asked, her voice melodious. Lena kept herself from flinching when she saw the glint of daggers. Her own heavy in her corset but she wouldn’t be as fast as trained assassins.

Selena lowered her chin as she looked between the two Crows and Ferenna. She could remember the stories Zevran had told the Warden but she had no way of knowing which came first. It was three years until the Blight and here she was meeting two of the trio. Taliesen had to be about too. And if the trio was here. Why? Why would they be here?  At the pleasure palace? Chateau Haine. What purpose was there to the presence of not one but two - mayhaps _three Antivan Crows_ at Chateau Haine? Who would die tonight?

Too much time had passed and she gave a sly smile. “ _Only a rumor, I’m sure. But that House Arainai is known for hiding the royal bastards?"_

Ferenna laughed and the two Crows relaxed. Though subtle as it was, Lena noted it. The release of tension in their shoulders and the less devious look to their eyes and the lack of flitting his gaze around the room. Zevran was less intrigued in tracking someone in the crowd.

Was that Taliesen he was tracking or someone else? Selena wouldn’t know unless she looked and that didn’t seem like a good idea to her.

“ _You say you are Peregrinus?"_ Lena questioned, curious.

“Ah it is only an honorary title.” Ferenna added, switching out of Antivan. “Zevran is quite skilled in the art of seduction, Seleña. Something I thought you might find in common, considering your dinner time activity.”

“And I did offer.” Selena agreed. “Though I had thought the invitation was clearly extended to you and Prince Goran.”

“Goran is…” Ferenna weighed her words with a twinkle in her eyes. “Conservative.”

“As opposed to?”

“Yourself. While this may be Chateau Haine, it is nothing in comparison to Antiva. ”

“Or it’s Brothels?” Lena now looked at Zevran.

“Yes.”

“So why introduce me to your bodyguard and…” She looked at Zevran. “Expert in seduction.” The resulting laugh from all three had Lena straighten her back.

“The Chateau thus far has been...disappointing. But you…” Ferenna looked up. “You remind me of home.”

“I’m sure our conversations of Antivan dishes caused that.” Selena offered.

“Yes. But also the way you wielded two swords and handled your two _juguetes._ ” Ferenna added. “Did I presume correctly?”

Lena snicker. “You have no idea.”

“And unlike Howe. I _can_ afford you.”

Selena looked across all three of them and sat straighter. Her teeth glinted with her cat like grin. “Then we will need to draw up a contract, _cariña."_

 

* * *

 

Sebastian and Nathaniel waited the appropriate time before entering the Salon to fetch Selena. They were both surprised to see her approaching them with an ecstatic grin and sensual sway to her hips.

“Gentlemen?” She purred and walked into the corridor without waiting.

“Selena?” Sebastian called and trailed after her with Nathaniel reluctant to follow.

Once a significant distance from the Salon, she turned on them both. “You both look... _relaxed_.” She pinned Sebastian with a crestfallen look. Her head shook with disappointment. Sebastian gave a sheepish smile, his puffy wet lips red and his hair mussed.  “And here I thought I left you both tense and _stimulated._ ” She flicked her tongue against her teeth in annoyance and crossed her arms.

“Of which I demand an apology for.” Nathaniel stated.

“An...apology?” Selena squared her shoulders.

“Yes.”

“I seem to recall you led my hand closer.”

“Well if a woman is so _desperate_ as to accost a man in public.” Nathaniel spoke.

“Desperate? You think I...was _desperate?_ ” Her voice took on a low threatening tone as she stepped to Nathaniel, her posture stiff. She looked him up and down with a snarl.

“Clearly you were. Sebastian is a brother of the Chantry, so you turned your attentions to me and toyed with us.” Before Nathaniel could continue, Lena was laughing and drawing back.

“Oh… you’re so naive.” Selena chuckled.  “I toyed with you both, yes.”  She adopted her persona.

Sebastian recognized her shift. The problem he encountered was if he should warn Nathaniel? He looked to his friend who didn’t look angry but apprehensive. Nathaniel stepped back, suddenly wary of the tiny dwarfess as she drew closer.

“Your eyes tell a different tale. You enjoyed it.”  She palmed his crotch. “What other reason could there be for you to smell of sex, Sebastian to appear thoroughly kissed, and your trousers to be not as neatly tied as they once were?”  Nathaniel scowled and pulled away to refasten the laces on his trousers.  “No no.  Let me.”  She hissed and yanked on the laces until they came off his trousers and loose in her hand. “Now you have all the room for your cock to harden.”

“Maker.” Sebastian muttered, seeing Selena bully his friend. He was becoming hard beneath his kilt again.

“Sebastian!” Nathaniel panicked as he held his trousers up. They sagged and were loose.

“One shouldn’t insult a Madame so lightly.” Selena smirked. “Next time you call a woman desperate, make sure it isn’t after you fucked the mouth of one of hers.”  She wrapped the laces to his trousers around her fingers, stepping away as he tried to grab them. “Nope. nuh-uh.  I expect an apology. Good and proper. You’ve injured my sensibilities.”

“You must be joking?”

Selena stepped down the hall. “I never joke. Now which way to your quarters?”

 

* * *

 

The door to Nathaniel’s quarters clicked shut. They weren’t as lavish as Sebastian’s.  If anything they were similar to Selena’s in that they had the bare necessities of comfort and warmth.

“Give me my laces.” Nathaniel growled as Sebastian stepped to light the hearth. He was tense, having had to walk the halls gripping his trousers closed and dodging the curious looks of passerbys.

“Hmm…” Selena ignored his request and stepped into the room, examining everything. “I assume that is your bedroom?” She pointed at the door. At Nathaniel’s nod. “Good. Apologize to me in there.”

“What?”

“Sebastian may have eased the pressure but I like to finish what I start.” She tapped her foot with expectation.

“So I am to apologize and you’ll still…” Nathaniel freed one hand and gestured to himself. “Finish?”

Selena smirked. “Is it so surprising?”

“Mildly.” Nathaniel released a breath, confused over the tiny dwarf. “Where did Sebastian find you?”

“In a brothel, of course.”

“Of course.” Nathaniel shook his head. “I need a drink.”

“Best to get one. I may not be so lenient later.” She threatened with a smile and disappeared into his bedroom. Sebastian had long since lit the hearth and had poured two snifters and handed one to Nathaniel.

“Do you want my advice?” Sebastian leant against the back of the couch and stared at the bedroom door whilst sipping.

“I’m not entirely sure I do.” Nathaniel muttered but waved his hand. “But I imagine you’ll tell me anyway.”

“Do everything exactly as she says.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s more enjoyable when you do.” Sebastian released a fond sigh.

“So you take orders from her?”

“I wouldn’t call them orders.” Sebastian smirked. He was towing the line of what to reveal. Perhaps he was a little reckless, but his nerves jittered as he considered Mama and his Nathaniel in bed together with him watching. “Not quite commands, either.”

“Suggestions then?”

“Oh no.  Do. Not. Take them as suggestions.” Sebastian laughed. “Just do what you always do. The exact opposite of myself.”

Nathaniel snorted and proceeded to drain the glass.

The bedroom had a large bed, as large as her own if a bit wider.  At least it was no higher up.  Though she anticipated a struggle in the near future in trying to get on the bed. She tapped on her lip as she spied the curtains, drawn back and held with ropes.  The laces were well and good but they were too short for her purposes.  So she snapped the curtains closed - or she intended. She could view the bailey of the Chateau filling with wooden structures. There was little to no light from the moons, but the sliver she saw was of the crescent of Satina.

She doused the room the room in almost darkness by closing the curtains. The only source being the almost depleted candles.  Besides them were the ones that would replace them.

 _Howe Convenient._ She’d have to send a letter to Anders for that joke one day. She grabbed the candles and lit them, bathing the room in the low light and then set them in the holder.  She lit the hearth and the room began to also warm. She reached a hand to her hair and let Dopey climb the walls, off to find some corner for him to perch while she had her fun for the evening.

 _Would it be fun? Or would this be professional?_ It all depended on Sebastian of course.  If it was business, he’d have to decide what to reveal to his friend.  Though given their past, Nathaniel may already know. _Still, best to be sure._

Her lips stretched as she let loose her curls, feeling her scalp relax.  She reached back to undo her corset. Or she would have, had not hands joined her and a pair of lips pressed to the nape of her neck. By the grate of scruff she knew it was Nathaniel.  Her corset loosened under his fingers and her dress fell off her shoulders. He pushed it off her shoulders and the dress pooled at her feet leaving her in only the silk slip and her smalls.

“And who gave you permission to do that?”

“Nobody, _my lady._ ” He rumbled in her ear. “You appeared to need aid.”

“Do not think divesting me of my garments is considered an apology.”

“Never, _my lady_.”

“Do you not think you can drop the _my lady_?” She turned on him and was silenced when he pressed his lips to hers. She yelped, caught by surprise and jumped back.  Her hand raised and she slapped him. “You go too far too soon.”

His cheek burned red. “But I thought-”

“We will be fucking. But _kissing_ is different matter.” She hissed. “One does not force a kiss on a lady, as you so wish to call me. As I am a lady, you must ask permission.”

Sebastian chuckled behind him. “I should have mentioned that.”

“ _May_ I kiss you?”

“No, you may not.” Selena hissed and glowered. “Sebastian, I hope you know this reflects poorly on you. Given the stories he has told me of you two, of your shared _experiences_ , am I to assume this will be a night of duplicitous engagement on my part as covered under the contract?”

Sebastian paused with consideration. He thought back to the contract. Over time they had added amendments and conditions. This wouldn’t be the first time they had another individual involved, though it would be the first time it was with someone who was _not_ a prostitute. “Yes.”

“Contract?” Nathaniel queried.

“I was serious when I told your father he couldn’t afford me.” Lena smiled and met Sebastian’s gaze. “I entertain customers of a certain affluence but only once a contract has been agreed upon.”

Sebastian unclasped his cape and draped it on the chaise. Selena admired his physique as he stripped off his sword belt and his formal jacket, each neatly folded and set down.

“And am I a customer of certain affluence?” Nathaniel asked. There was hesitance in his question as he regarded both her and Sebastian. Insecure of his place in the whole affair, if he was only receiving her attentions because of Sebastian...it would be no different than in Starkhaven. Sharing a woman together that Sebastian paid for or acquired their attentions by his being royalty. It wasn’t really something he wanted to repeat after so long.  Especially as Sebastian had taken care of him already. He was no longer aching.

Selena watched the flow of emotions and thoughts reflected in his gaze. She gave Sebastian a well meaning look before stepping back to Howe.

“I won’t lie to you.” Selena would be as truthful as she could. “You aren’t of my usual clientele but as you have connections, you’ve intrigued me.”

Had he heard correctly? Him? Have _connections_? He didn’t get to question her for his throat dried when she removed her slip revealing her pert tan nipples. They were darker with a touch of blush as he had seen earlier by the reflecting sunlight. Now paired with her delicate expanse of pale skin, he couldn’t quite believe she was a prostitute. She was much too pure looking, at least until he caught her gaze.

“ _Ser_ Howe. Tell me what you desire, and I will do everything in my power to provide it for you.” She breathed.

He drank her in, and knelt low enough to hover over her mouth.

“Kissing is still off limits.”

“And if I desire to kiss you?” He questioned, smirking when she scowled. “May I kiss you, my lady?”

Her mouth opened to respond but she ate her words. If he so desired, then she would grant it. With her head tilted, Nathaniel dipped until he was kissing her.

Selena squirmed. The act far too intimate for her as her stomach gave an ugly twist. She bit Nathaniel’s lips. He hissed.

“ _My lady._ ” Nathaniel growled. “Am I to presume I am allowed to bite?”

“You presume correctly.” She huffed.

“Good.” He chuckled and instead of biting at her lip like she suspected he would, he turned her chin away to latch onto her neck. With a grunt, she gripped his hair as his teeth sunk down to bruise but not break the skin. With haste his tongue soothed it.

It wasn’t an act she found pleasurable but she let him have his way because he asked.

Sebastian had watched the entire exchange from his spot, slowly removing his formal attire. He was a tad jealous to watch Nathaniel kiss Selena, but he supposed she offered.  He wondered if he might ask for a similar engagement. He never understood why kisses were forbidden in their original contract.

Selena pulled away from Nathaniel enough to glare at his self satisfied grin. “Remove the rest of your garments, ser.”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“You said, anything I desire.” His grin turned wolfish. “I desire to stay clothed.”  He wrapped his arms around her and she pushed against his shoulder. “For now.” He husked and lifted her up. She didn’t squeal to his disappointment. Instead with a well practiced maneuver, her legs clenched around his waist to prevent herself from falling. Her smalls covered center pressed against his hardening bulge through his own smalls.

“Put me dow-”  She yelped but was cut off as he did, but on the bed. He climbed on top and attacked her lips again, teeth and tongue dueling. Selena growled and yanked at his hair and rolled her hips up and against him, testing her leverage.

“Yesss...” He hissed as he sucked on her bottom lip. He palmed her arse as she raised her hips against him. That left him holding himself with one hand. Lena took advantage and rolled them over until she was on top and slammed his shoulder down with force.  He grunted, glancing at her furious expression.

“You seem to be confused.” She growled.

“Confused?” He gripped her hand but she held fast as best she could. If he wanted to, he could yank her hand off his shoulder and flip them but her vicious snarling expression had him throbbing.

“You seem to have mistook me as some mewling quim to be commanded by man.” She tossed her hair back and sat up.

“Oh? From my position your _quim_ seems to be more weeping than mewling.” He snarked and bucked his hips against her.  “ _My lady._ ”

“Do not test me, Howe.” She snapped. “I am a woman to be _respected._  You will dispense with the placating tone of your ‘my lady’ and refer to me by my proper title.” She hissed and grasped his jaw.

“And what is your proper title? Madame?” Nathaniel asked.

Selena chuckled and looked to Sebastian as the bed dipped below his weight. “Sebastian, What should Nathaniel refer to me as?”

Sebastian looked between them, understanding the silent question. It was up to him if Nathaniel learned about everything he truly desired in the bedroom. All his proclivities laid to bare. Would Nathaniel understand? Would he be disgusted? Sebastian had a brief moment of panic to have Nathaniel turn away from him unaccepting of his darker desires. His one friend chased away by everything he couldn’t be quiet about. He’d be alone.

No.  Because he had Selena.

“Mama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an evil _evil_ author. I was going to continue the scene but again... it was getting too long so had to cut it off. Thankfully I found a GREAT cliffhanger spot. Hence... my evilness.
> 
> Acknowledgements: LonelyAgain & Spellweaver once again are ACE on helping me with some of the dialogue. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a little different.


	42. Chateau Haine, 2nd Day: Wyvern Hunt pt1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the second day of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. A moment to check in with our favorite Grey Warden Commander, the aftermath of the previous night with Nathaniel, Sebastian and Lena, and the Wyvern Hunt begins to an explosive start.

Darkness swathed the night as a crescent sliver of Satina was all that lit the forest. Enough illumination to let him see the tracks. Snapped branches, disturbed dirt, mud, and bloodied leaves. If anyone else had been tracking the party they'd find them with little difficulty but would be overwhelmed.

There was an emissary amongst the darkspawn. Emissaries could command the darkspawn rank and file around it. But the ancient Warden texts indicated emissaries only came to the surface during a Blight. It gave Duncan pause. He would have to write to Weisshaupt about this as soon as he reached the Chateau.

Stalking through the underbrush he tracked them. It grew darker and darker around him. Accustomed to it's comforting curtain, the shadows swallowed him. The problem came that the darkspawn were as well and could likely see better than him in it. But as used to the cavernous void of the deep roads they were, he could navigate the pockets of shadows that deepened in the presence of light.

In a few days time, night would have no light save for the twinkling stars. If you asked him the double new moon was the worse time for celebration but superstitious nobility thought if the Maker was indeed watching, the new moons would be when he and Andraste couldn't see the sins they commit. A foolhardy superstition but one many Chantric folk held.

A stick snapped. Duncan pressed against the bark of a tree. He could sense them and they him. It wasn't an exact measurement. They knew he was present but not where. He waited.

Two genlock brutes came into view followed by two hurlocks. A towering emissary passed in front of Duncan, flanked by two more hurlocks and four genlocks.

Any other man would tremble as the darkspawn outnumbered them. Duncan was no ordinary man. He was the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden.

He struck his enemy taking the back two hurlocks down with the swing of his bastard sword and short sword. He was quick to parry and block, and kicked at the genlocks who grew too near. The emissary shrieked and sent a pulse out.

Duncan dodged out of its range, spinning in place as he pulled his shield up. Its weight and positioning encumbered him. He switched stances. He braced for impact as the battering ram of a genlock brute bashed against the metal with its fists. It pushed him back into the genlocks who he fended off with his sword. He needed an opening. The genlock brute took a few steps back and let a roar out. Duncan didn't wait as he stepped out of the way as the brute ran ahead and pinned a genlock down. Duncan brought his sword down on another’s head and hacked.

The song of arrows in the air alerted him too late of the genlock archers. One arrow grazed his skin. He plunged his body behind a tree as more arrows came raining. Hit in the arm. Grunting, he huffed. He couldn't yet remove them.

Two hurlocks, five genlocks, and an emissary. He gripped his belt, pulling on the poison bottle he had intended to use during the Wyvern Hunt. He would have to give Cailan his apologies. He tossed it into the fray, the stunned emissary slowed its movements. As were the hurlocks and two of the genlocks.

 _Good the splash got them._ It was a fast acting poison but would wear off soon as the air cleared. He had to be quick. Duncan looped around from the tree and sunk his sword deep into the emissary. Rapid stabs deep and deadly, he ripped its neck in half and pierced its heart before it could recover enough to attack.

A genlock battered against his back. With a gasp Duncan fell, turning in time to bring his shield up. The genlock raged against it, bone on metal sounding and the ground shook and trees trembled.

 _The trees?_ Duncan gaped as the trees shifted and creaked with more than the wind. Boulders slid and roots came up. The ground quaked. The genlock brute had stopped its assault. Instead it stood still and stared around, as though confused. Duncan took advantage to slay it and the two remaining hurlocks that were shaken off their feet. The genlock archers had paused too.

 _Earthquakes?_ Duncan wondered as he turned to attack the genlocks but they disregarded him. Their jaws slack and weapons dropped. They began to move, slow at first and then they ran. Duncan caught the slowest of them but two were out of his reach. An archer and a brute.

He took a moment to stare after them as they headed toward the Chateau.

“No!” He rasped. Steeling himself he trudged after them. It wasn't difficult. They left more than enough tracks for him to follow.

He had to catch them before they reached the Fortress.

 

* * *

 

The still dark morning gave rise to an awareness of how sore he was and a chill in the air. Though they were covered in the mountain of blankets Selena insisted they have, he was able to slid out from under it with minimal jostling of his two visitors. Both of which were soundly still sleeping in his bed.

Nathaniel groaned as parts of him ached in worse ways than it had during squire training, but these aches were accompanied with far more pleasant memories.

If there was one thing he learned, it was that Mama River was _thorough_. Meticulous and patient as she restrained him with Sebastian’s help. He fought - Maker did he fight. The ropes had been tight enough to leave red burns on his wrists, the red crisscrossing indents ached. He ran his fingers over them.

Mama had scolded him and had showed him what happened to _naughty_ men who couldn't take orders. Needless to say...he misbehaved the entire night. Or well he tried to. Sebastian ratted him out on his intentions and that's when it got interesting. There was still bits of candle wax on the sheets and on his skin not to mentioned he felt sticky. It was a good sticky, pleasant but uncomfortable now that he saw it.

Walking with care, he stoked the dying embers of the hearth and added a log. When he straightened to stand he gasped in delicious pain. He had remained bent for a fair few hours.

“Maker fuck that's smart…” he rubbed at his lower back and straightened.

“Ice bath.” Came a yawned reply from the bed. _Mama_ had woken and was sitting up and staring.

“Mama!” Nathaniel spun to watch her but she didn't move. She gave him an appreciative glance. He was covered in welts and bruises and still red skin from where he begged - _Maker he had begged_ \- for more punishment. His pale skin was a plethora of healing colors, his cock red from overstimulation, and dark bags under his eyes with red puffy lips. None of the marks were in any place others would see once he was dressed.

“You’ll want an ice bath to soothe those muscles of yours.” She elaborated.

Nathaniel nodded, unsure of how he is meant to act now. The rules had been established last but how does one act outside of that arrangement? Is he meant to call her Mama all the time? His cheeks flushed at the scandal that would cause.

“Didn't peg you for the sort to like to fight.” She gave another yawn before sending him a smirk and wink. “Especially not in the sack.” She was sliding off the bed, careful to not disturb Sebastian.

“I like to keep it interesting.” He muttered as he watched her walk with no shame or modesty. He gaped as she didn’t shy and gasp, or try to hide herself or cover her nudity. Instead she walked completely comfortable. Even the prostitutes Sebastian and him had shared in the past covered themselves up. Lena went about collecting her dress off the floor and stretching the material out.

“You’re...quite odd.” He muttered. Her sharp look had him gulping. Nathaniel now knew what that look meant and why Sebastian had flushed so often last night. “Sorry, mama.” He added softly.

“You don’t have to call me that all the time, you know.” She added with a smirk that he had become acquainted with at dinner, but never saw during their encounter. It was the same with how she held herself, walked, and talked. Yes she was confident in her stride. She had different forms. In one she was merely a confident woman, in the other she walked with a stride that demanded respect and forcing others to adjust themselves to look her in the eye. Her air and manner of speak was less playful and more demanding, competent.

“I don’t?”

“Well, not outside the bedroom.” She shrugged.

“How do you keep it separate?”

“Keep what separate?”

“Your…” He gestured to her.

“My?”

“It is difficult to explain.” He sighed. “It is like a mask, but not because I can see it is still you.”

She gazed up at him confused. “A mask like…a persona?”

“Persona?”

“You don’t know that word?” Her incredulous condescending tone bothered him. “Of course you don’t.” She pinched her nose.

“Pardon?” A bit of offense rolled out. Was she calling him uneducated?

“Sorry. I didn't mean-” her lips went right tight before she waved her hand as she tilted her head in thought. “It's a Tevene word. It means the aspect of a person’s character that is presented to or perceived by others. It’s what we present as ourselves to certain parties or individuals.” She explained.

Nathaniel frowned, somehow disturbed by this definition and realization that yes, Lena did present herself differently to different parties. “You would do well in Orlais.”

“Would I?” She beamed. “How nice. Good thing I have no intention of heading that way.”

“No?”

“Surrounded by snail-eating pepe le pews.” She mimicked the Orlesian accent. Nathaniel snickered. “Hon hon, Mademoiselle your eyes are magnifique!” She snorted. “Nooo thank you.”

“Good to know.”

“Don’t mistake my lack of interest in visiting Orlais for not being willing to play the game. Clearly I can play.”

“I shudder to think what you could do if you wanted to.”

“We’ll never find out.”

 _“_ Thankfully _.”_ Nathaniel sighed.

“Give Sebastian my best.” Lena said as she slipped her dress on, not bothering with her slip.

“You’re leaving? I thought you would join us for the Hunt.”

“I will. But I have none of my dresses here. And I’m sticky. I need to wash and I do have a job to do.” Lena looked around the room and walked toward the hearth where she stretched her hand out. Nathaniel jolted to see a spider of unusual coloring walk onto her hand. He had thought the spider had been an ornament in her hair! He gaped at her as she gave it a gentle pet and set it in her messy bun. It crawled and burrowed beneath her curls.

“Ttyl!” She said around a yawn and left him gaping at her.

“Tea-tea-why-el?” Nathaniel muttered confused.

 

* * *

 

Selena made it back to her room four gold sovereigns richer. Athenril had escorted her back, having spent the entire night just outside of Nathaniel’s room. The elven bodyguard was vigilant. Lena took note of that. Sure Athenril had tried to kill her but she was proving to be useful. Perhaps having saved her tempered her suspicions that she was the same as Harlan. She wasn't sure but she kept a close eye on her.

While still sleepy, she knew today began the first day the others would have to work too. She took a quick bath. The dress for the day was simple and covered her up from neck to wrist again. Thankfully the material was lighter, though the skirt was much tighter and had a bit of a boost to the back that she removed. She really didn’t need to emphasize or increase the size of her rear than it already was. The shirt portion was a light almost off white and pinkish color that buttoned up. The corset was black with an equally colored long skirt that covered her shoes, letting her wear her very comfortable boots. It wasn’t constricting but with a lot of movement she could see herself sweating in this with hot temperatures.

Her heels clicked against the stone and she opened the apartments that held Denier, Adriano, and Samson. Except the room contained Adriano and Faith who were dressing.

“Where’re the others?” Halfway through the question she knew exactly where two of the others were. She ventured to the other room and found Dip and Denier curled up on top of the two beds they had pushed together. Cute _._

“Come on.” Lena prodded Denier’s foot. He responded with a glare that she grinned in response.

“You've left us alone for two days, not so much as a hello before off you went to canoodle with nobility and royalty.” Denier grumbled.

“And where did you hear I was with royalty?” Lena cocked her hip. Serendipity quirked her brow.

“My sister and I used to work in the Chateau, years ago.” She said, a far off look to her eyes that turned sober. “I still know quite a few of the servants here.”

“You used to work for the Duke?” Lena frowned. She went to ask why she went to work for Harlan but Denier shared a look with Lena.

“Yes. We asked around after the one day. I don’t like not seeing you for that long. Makes me anxious after the last time.” Denier piped up as he rose and opened the single wardrobe in the room where his fancier work clothes were hanging after being freshly laundered and ironed. Serendipity’s dress hung next to it. 

“Sorry.” Lena muttered and touched Denier’s shoulder.

“Nothing to apologize for. I hear you were sitting with the King of Ferelden. Tell us. How was he? Did he have a dog at his bedside or did the mabari join in?” Serendipity grinned.

“Oh gross!” Lena screwed her eyes shut.

“What? They are Doglords. I do hope you got paid very well for the evening.” She cackled.

With a roll of her eyes, she turned away to grab a goblet of ale, sipping at it. “I was networking.” Lena shrugged. “And I got six sovereigns.”

“That's it?” Serendipity huffed. “You my dear need to charge more.”

Lena squinted. She thought two sovereigns were fair.

“You're a busy woman now. Your time is precious.” Serendipity rose and pulled on her work dress for the day. It was fancier than what she wore at the Rose. It was in the same pink as the top portion Lena’s dress. It showcased much of her upper chest, or rather lack thereof, and flared the skirts around her from just below her bosom inserts. Her ankles showed and she wore dainty heels that she moved around easily. Next was her makeup and hair.

“Sooo. Two sovereigns isn't enough?”

“Two sovereigns is what I make at the Rose. But this isn't the Rose. We’re at the Chateau.” Serendipity flourished her arms to emphasize.

Lena crossed her arms. “Fine. I'll charge more. But I won't have much time the rest of the weeks to work while ya’ll are working.”

“You say this now. But watch, you'll find a way.”

“Not if I want to sacrifice my sleep.” She huffed.

Serendipity insisted on doing Lena’s makeup, but she wouldn't have it. She wanted to go natural. With her work in plumbing and with Bianca in creating prototypes, she remembered that makeup products had lead in it during medieval ages. She'd rather not poison herself anymore than she had already.

As a group they had a quick breakfast, fruits, bread, and ham with wine. Lena looked over their outfits and they all matched. Not that they wore all the same outfit but that their colors were the same. Black and pink. Faith also wore a similar dress to Serendipity but it emphasized her heavy bosom. Adriano and Denier wore loose ruffled pink shirts with the chests open and thick brown lace up cotton trousers that were snug and cupped certain areas up.

“Are you not wearing smalls?” Lena had to ask. Both men snorted at her.

“No.”

“Oh… lovely.”

“It makes it easier. Some women, and men find it enthralling.” Adriano smirked.

“Especially in the alcoves.” Denier stroked his beard.

“I’ll be sure to look away from the alcoves then.” Lena grumbled. She pulled open her bag where an empty lock box was for coin and marks of purchase. She also had a few parchment scrolls and one of her pens. Part of her duties was to keep track of who went off with which noble or royal, and write their names down and how much was charged. The girls and gents would meander around her drinking while she sat at a table and kept records.

As they walked out, Prudence made her appearance. She wore a day dress in blue tones that accentuated her blonde hair and grey eyes. She smiled at them. Lena kept her back straight under the eerie look she held.

“Oh don’t you all look lovely.” Prudence cooed. “Come now, the Hunt is just about to begin. Only a few more guests to arrive.”

The morning was greeted with a swirling fog and the sun hidden behind a shade of clouds, even this high up in the Vimmark. The heavy fog danced around their ankles in eddies and whorls. As it rolled down the mountains it came and spilled down the walls. The beautiful golden landscape of the Chateau was replaced by an eerie calm. With no sun, the colors muted and the whites became greyed and everything had a thin layer of frost. Not enough to slip but enough to chill and prickle the skin.

Lena pitied Serendipity and Faith who had bare arms. It would be chilly but hopefully with movement they would keep warm.

The Hunting grounds were filled with tents surrounding the outer walls of the Chateau on the west side to catch as much of the rising sunrise even through the fog and clouds. The yellow and red tents which would have been vibrant were dull, but there were nobles and royals milling about, warriors ready to test their mettle and of course there were the other prostitutes. Each of the whorehouses of Kirkwall had sent a handful of whores and their owner or proxy accompanied by at least one bodyguard.

LaVish from the Seamstresses had five female whores who all wore white garments with touches of purple. They were all elder women, or at least older than Lena, with severe looks about them. 

Madam Giselle and her lot were lively at their orange tent with a slew of giggling gaggle of girls and elder women and three men. She’d brought nearly ten harlots with her and were all enjoying themselves with glee. They were rambunctious and though most of them wore normal outfits, they all had a sleeve or scarf with a copper tone to it.

“Do we have a tent?”

“No.” Prudence muttered. “We do not operate within the confines of a tent.”

“We mill about and engage our intended client. And then we’ll be off.” Dip continued to explain.

“So you choose your customer?”

“Yes.” All four voices chimed around her.

“Good.”

Maybe she could find another client for the night. It would be nice to return to Kirkwall with a small fortune. Though as she looked around, no one really caught her eye. She spotted King Cailan, Teagan, and Nathaniel but Anora was absent as was Rendon. _Thank the cosmos._ She wondered if Sebastian would participate.

She was headed toward an area with tables so she could perch there for the duration of the hunt.

“Madame Selena!” Her title drew her gaze toward Nathaniel who waved at her. She was wearing her glasses for the first time in a long while, the fog had prompted her to pull them out. She really only wore them when she had to do a lot of writing. No one bothered her after their initial questions regarding it, so it was good to see things in perfect clarity. Seeing Nathaniel who was fast approaching, he paused and paled.

“What is it?” She said and the back of her neck prickled - heavy with someone watching.

Carefully, she turned and was greeted with a crotch of a man as thick as she was tall. Thick thighs on either side of the crotch wearing large ballooning striped pants. Her gaze traveled up to an expanse of grey skin marred with scars, a leather harness and then finally to a face.

 _Horns._ Her mouth dropped as she gazed at the two long sideways horns that pointed up. _Bull horns_. Her gaze flicked toward the face but she paused when she was met with _two_ hazel green eyes and a scruffy jaw.

“Woah there shortmouth.”

 _Freddie Prinze Jr!!_ Lena could not move as she stared up at the Qunari. How had she not even noticed him when she was walking in? She blinked. _Ben-Hassrath, of course._

“Unless you plan to do something with that mouth,” His suggestive eyebrow quirk had her flush and made her aware of her exact height and where she came to. He gave a slight shift for emphasis. “you might consider closing it.” Her mouth snapped shut hard enough her teeth clattered. He didn’t cringe, like she expected but gave a wider grin. “Kinky.” He growled and stepped around her.

Lena watched him go, walking toward the Chateau with a large axe at his back. He joined a line of similarly tough looking men and women that did not look familiar. All the while she openly stared at his ass and back. She might have pulled at her collar a bit and gulped. Iron Bull, _before_ he lost an eye. Which meant, it was before Krem? It’d make sense, especially as one of the men at wall was giving orders and Bull was off, following them.

“Lena? Are you alright?” Nathaniel touched her shoulder and she looked up.

“Yes.” Came her breathy reply. She tried again. “Yes.”

He snorted. “I know that look.”

“You’ve known me one day.” She snapped but then grinned. “I might ride that later.” She snickered.

“Maker you’re insatiable.” Nathaniel shook his head. He held his arm out to her and she took it, following him until she was sat next to him at Cailan’s table by the tent. There was a flurry of his attendants in the tent, sharpening his sword and polishing his armor.

“Madame! You will be joining us for the Hunt.”

“Sadly no, your majesty.” She smiled at their insistence to stand when she approached the table. There was a flagon of ale and she reached to pour herself a cup when she caught Prudence at the edge of her vision, dithering back and forth with a smile. The editor caught her eye and approached.

“Your majesty.” She cooed with a wider smile. “Bann Teagan, Ser Howe.” She knew their names and that made Lena squint.

“Lady Prudence!” Cailan rose and greeted her. “How does your Lord Warren fare these days? Any better I hope?”

 _How did she know them?!_ Lena looked between them.

“Sadly his days are likely numbered. I’m only too pleased to see he spends much time with our children.”

 _Children?!_ Lena did a double take at Prudence. She… this _thing_ had children?

“King Cailan, I see you are bright and early.” Prosper approached with a jovial smile. He had a swagger to him as Cailan rose and walked around to greet him.

“Prosper! Thank you so much for having us.”

“I trust you enjoyed your rooms then?”

“Yes, exquisite. Especially the collection of cheeses-” Cailan went on.

Lena tuned them out and eyed Prudence up and down. “You know the King?”

“I do business with many.” She added simply.

“Hmmm.” She squinted.

“When will the Hunt begin.” Cailan asked.

“It will begin shortly. If you’ll excuse me.” Prosper gave his greetings to everyone at the table. Lena watched him go and then eyed Cailan who was frowning.

“Is something the matter, you’re majesty.”

“Ah, we came with a Grey Warden and sadly he was delayed in arriving and hasn’t yet appeared.” Teagan was quick to offer explanations. 

“Duncan promised we’d attend the Hunt together.” Cailan huffed and pouted.

“Duncan?” Lena tripped up. _Duncan-duncan?_ First Bull and now Duncan.

“Ah. Duncan is the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden.” Teagan explained.

“Oh.” Lena furrowed her brows. “I’m sure whatever the reason for his delay, is important.” _Like maybe the Fifth Blight growing in Ferelden._ But then again, why would they expect him here? On top of that why was Cailan here too? They should be back in Ferelden preparing at the least. Unless there wasn’t any signs yet? How does one detect an oncoming Blight? Even during the first game they doubted it being a Blight, and insisted it was just an unusually large raid. She hummed. She didn’t have to worry about that though. She’d be far from Ferelden while in the Free Marches and would have no worry about darkspawn this far up.

While they waited, she listened to Teagan, Cailan, and Nathaniel discuss the best methods to hunt a wyvern. Teagan whispered that the best way was to lure it out by some method, like using it’s mating calls. Lena really did try not to laugh but they saw it.

“And how would you lure a Wyvern out, my lady?” Teagan asked. “You are from this area, so please enlighten us.”

“Well, you have the right idea. Luring it out is best. But a mating call? Not quite.” She smirked. “Rather, find a wyvern’s droppings and use it to leave an invading scent on another’s territory. Wyverns are very territorial.”

“That is an unusual method. How did you come about it?” Cailan asked. “Using its droppings?”

“I read it somewhere, long ago.” Lena gave a coy smile.

“And how would you go about slaying the wyvern?” Nathaniel asked.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I don’t exactly have combat experience.”

“But theoretically. Did what you read indicate how to slay it?”

“No, but I would avoid its bite. The only antidote for it is a made from… uh.” She closed her eyes and wracked her memory.

“Andraste’s mantle, drakevein, and winterberry.” Teagan offered.

“Yes that… hey if you already knew.”

“This isn’t my first hunt.” He winked. She rolled her eyes with a smile.

“That is useful information.” Nathaniel stroked his chin. “Would you perchance recognize wyvern droppings if you saw them?”

Lena recalled the game. She’d loved that particular DLC but she wasn’t sure if the _shit_ \- she was a big girl she could say it - would be exactly the same. “I think so. I can draw it for you.” She offered and pulled a spare parchment out.

“I was thinking you might join us.” Nathaniel asked.

“Join…” Her brows furrowed. “I don’t think...I shouldn’t.”

“Oh what a lovely idea!” Prudence interjected into the conversation.

“I- no. I have.” Lena glared at Prudence and hissed. “I have a job to do.”

Prudence bent low. “Nonsense. You have plenty of time. I’m sure the girls will be fine while you’re away. We have Athenril.” She cooed.

“It would certainly help us to have an expert.” Cailan perked up. “We might be down one sword but you’ve read about wyverns. This is excellent! I’ll tell Anora.”

“Wait-wait…” Lena gaped after the King who bolted off the table into the tent.

“Now now, Lena. you wouldn’t want to refuse the King of Fereldan.” Prudence taunted and teased.

“Oh _fuck off_.” Lena swore. Teagan and Nathaniel looked between her and Prudence.

“A woman shouldn’t spew profanities, Lena.” Prudence chided.

Grinding her teeth, Selena glowered. “I do not spew profanities. I enunciate them clearly.” She retorted. “Like a _fucking_ lady.”

Nathaniel and Teagan couldn’t contain themselves as they laughed.

Prudence’s lips stretched tight. “Hmm.”

When the Hunt began, Duke Prosper gave warnings that Lena already knew. She stared off at the foggy forest around them. She’d given Prudence her parchment and lockbox for the coin, should any of the girls disappear to serve before she got back. All the while Nathaniel stood beside her, smug.

“Into the woods, It's time to go, I hate to leave, I have to, though.” She sang under her voice, eyeing the looming foggy forest. This did not bode well. “Into the woods- It's time, and so I must begin my journey…”

“Tis a pity Sebastian isn’t here to see you cowed.”

“Don’t get smug with me, Mister.” She snapped as she followed after Cailan and Teagan. Anora was beside Lena and gave a humored sound.

“If you truly didn’t want to go, you could have remained behind.” Anora added with a pleasantness that made Lena question herself until she spied the smirk.

“Ugh, not you too.”

“I always find it humorous when Cailan can simply ask for things and it happens.”

“Well… he is a king.” Lena sighed. 

“And I his queen.” Anora’s eyes twinkled. She was adorned for battle with leather armor with a shortsword at her side and shield in her hand.

They moved through the forest and Lena recognized none of it, but she did however recognize poop. Which she’d been brought along to do so. But this poop wasn’t what they were looking for. It was canine poop.

“Oh yay… there are wolves around here.” She muttered after seeing it.

“Not to worry. We’ll protect you.” Anora comforted her.

“We’re all skilled warriors.” Nathaniel added. Cailan agreed.

Lena sighed but moved with the group, hiking her skirt up a bit as they crossed over a stream. She was shorter than them and had to take twice as many steps to keep up. Add in her skirt, she was not prepared for traipsing through the woods.

Nathaniel stepped with feather light footsteps. In comparison with Cailan and Teagan he was light footed. It was like Anora who also moved through without disturbing the underbrush. She stepped forward to stop Cailan from stepped into a bit of mud but Lena was paying closer attention to Nathaniel. He carried a sword and a buckler.

“Where’s your bow?”

Nathaniel gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m a warrior.”

“Pft. You’re an archer.”

“Archery’s more of a hobby.”

“Right… just like coffee is a hobby for me.”

“I thought it was?” Nathaniel queried as he cast his gaze around the forest floor. He was aware of their surroundings.

“It used to be. In that I partook in it every day and the different facets regarding it. A connoisseur of the coffee bean. But problem is everyone, where I'm from anyway, is a connoisseur of coffee. Not really a hobby if everyone does it. Can you be a hobbyist in _breathing_?” Lena joked.

“So you lied?”

“Well. No.” Lena shrugged. They lapsed into silence as Lena trailed after Nathaniel. She was hoping they didn't come across the Wyvern. She really would have liked to go back. Unless she wanted to break social expectations and approach Prosper, she was stuck with following them. Again. Sebastian had his Chantry duties. A handful of people had long confessions to make. Funny how that works out after a night of pleasures.

“Archery is your true passion.” She stated with confidence.

Nathaniel did a double take.

“You haven’t even seen me with a bow, how can you say it with such conviction?”

“The way your eyes light up when you spoke about learning archery from Sebastian, you even shivered with excitement when the new bow was mentioned by Teagan. Not to mention yours shoulders are defined, your upper back muscles are developed to support drawing a longbow. You may be built like a warrior yes, but you’ve specialized in archery.” Lena smirked.

“And you got all that after just one day in my company?”

“Well, I might have fluffed it up a bit. Based my hypothesis on what I could feel. You certainly haven’t missed leg day but your arms, maker you could lift.” Lena emphasized.

Nathaniel was able to determine the meaning behind what leg day and lift was but he had never heard it phrased quite like that.

“Also...I did get a degree in Bullshit from Bullshit academy.” Lena shrugged. “And I can sniff out bullshit when I hear it. Your proclamation of being a warrior is flat.”

Nathaniel snorted. “Exactly what is a Bullshit Degree?” He snorted. “Some sort of special training in bullshittery from the College of Orlais. I imagine it’d go hand in hand with the players of the Game.”

“Oh don’t you know it.” Lena agreed. Nathaniel guffawed.

“What did you study?”

“I would have thought it obvious. Who are the greatest of all bullshitters?”

“Orlesians?”

“Ha! Close, but not quite.” Lena giggled.

“Well then tell me, oh wise bullshitter. Maker that sounds odd.”

“Try saying that to a Tal-Vashoth with bull horns.”

“Did you see the size of him?”

“I did.”

“He didn’t… scare you, _my lady_?”

“Only of what he was packing in those trousers of his.”

“Madame! Watch your language. I have very delicate ears!” He spoke aghast.

“Oh really? I recall differently from last night.”

“Hush now.” Nathaniel slapped her shoulder playfully. “Do tell, what is your degree in?”

“Literature.” Lena deadpanned.

“Literature?”

“Yes.”

“You studied… literature?”

“And Trade Tongue and it’s many rules and ways in which it can be manipulated to produce certain effects while painting imagery during narratives to both entertain and teach lessons.”

Nathaniel squinted at her. “You mean you went to the college to learn to be a writer?”

“No.” Lena tutted. “I went to college to learn to manipulate language. There is a difference.” Lena corrected.

“So what can you do whilst manipulating language then?”

“Well the easiest is debating. But I pride myself in my knowledge of words that are its own opposites. I take great pleasure in double meanings.” She enthused.

“Double entendres?”

“That too!” She snickered.

“Ho! Madame!” Cailan called from ahead.

“Yes?” Lea perked up, remembering what she was even here for.

“Is this perchance wyvern droppings?” Teagan pointed to a pile of steaming shit. Lena did _not_ want to get close but she drew closer. It looked the right consistency from what she remembered in game. But it was the smell that had her convinced. While in game there had been no smell but you’d think a creature closely related to dragons would have a sulfur smell to their droppings.

“Ugh… yeah. Yeah.” She covered her nose and stumbled back.

“Fantastic!” Cailan whooped. One of his attendants brought a jar and scooped parts of it up.

“Ugh. You might… might look around to find signs of a wyvern.” Lena called out from the other side of the clearing.

“Problem?” Nathaniel asked as he examined scratch marks on a tree.

“The smell.”

“So go back to camp?”

“Much as I would like to. I have a terrible sense of direction. And there’s a fog.” She gestured around them to the swirling fog that made the clearing look isolated in a world of white.

“The Chateau is back in that direction, you could head back if you’re truly uncomfortable.”

“And risk coming across a wyvern on my own?”

“You truly have no martial skills? You had daggers on you last night.”

“Those were more for threatening rather than use.”

Nathaniel furrowed his brows. “Does Sebastian know this?”

“Why?”

“He would worry for your safety, if he hasn’t already.”

_Sebastian gulped as she cut large chunks of fat off Petrice’s body and dropped it in the glass jar he had fetched her. They had to move quick. Who knew when another late Chantry visitor would come, much less a sister or a brother. Or worse, Elthina._

_“I didn’t think you were squeamish.” Lena rasped as she cut another piece and let it plop._

_“Maker…” He gazed, horrified as the bloody remains of his abuser being sliced into pieces. He gave a heave and covered his mouth._

_“On the rug!” Lena hissed as he emptied his stomach onto the rug._

“When properly motivated I’ve been known to be… rather violent.” Lena felt a bit hollow thinking back to that. “He knows this. So if push came to shove, I would protect myself from people.”

“Ah.” Nathaniel hummed. “You can defend yourself against assailants but not beasts? Interesting.” He was crouched low. “And yet into the woods you traipsed.”

“Into the woods I did traipse.” She huffed. “Terrible decision.”

There was enough signs of the wyvern that they moved on toward another location, to see about luring one out. Lena suggested they add blood of another beast to it.

“What sort of beast?”

“Well I know there might be dragons about.” Lena muttered.

“You want us to kill a dragon to lure out a wyvern? Are you addled? Seems more of a feat to kill the dragon than a wyvern!” Teagan exclaimed.

“But slaying a dragon…” Cailan’s eyes went wide and his grin nearly broke his face in half.

“No. Cailan. No.”

“Uncle. Please.” Cailan turned to him. “We have to slay a dragon!”

“Cailan!” Teagan gasped. “Anora, please talk some sense into your- oh maker no.”

“Where abouts is this dragon?” Anora had pulled her sword out and looked ready for action. Eager was more appropriate if you asked Lena.

“It’s the giants all over again.” Teagan groaned. “We’re only missing the cheese.” He sighed.

“Uh...there might also be Halla? It’s prey so the smell of its blood might be-” Lena tried but Anora and Cailan were in deep discussion with each other. It was a change of personality for Anora, based on what Lena had seen of her. In court she was poised, collected and even distant, but here in the privacy of their friends and royal attendants - though Lena was the stranger - she was warmer and indulgent of Cailan. In fact she was just as reckless as he. 

No not reckless, eager for battle. 

Lena smiled. Anora had her own sets of personas it seemed. She respected her a lot more for that. Knowing when to show which side of herself. It was a pity Cailan didn’t have those.

“What I know of dragons in the tales, they prefer higher regions. We’ll have to climb the mountain a bit more.” Nathaniel offered to Cailan, absolutely bouncing with excitement himself.

“Look what you’ve done.” Teagan sighed as he rubbed his temples. “I’m going to be sore after this, I know it.”

“Oh dear.” Lena chuckled. “Perhaps I should make it up to you?”

“My lady, are you propositioning me?”

“All I’m saying is if your muscles will be sore afterwards, perhaps a soothing massage will help.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be _very_ thorough.”

“I may just take you up on the kind gesture, my lady.” He smirked.

“But first....”

“The dragon.” He sighed and turned back to Cailan. “Nathaniel is right! The dragons would be higher up.”

Cailan and Anora perked up. “Dragons?” They called.

“Oh maker fuck.”

“There’s more than one?!” Anora looked bloodthirsty. “I always did want a dragonbone sword.”

“I shall commission our finest smith in Denerim.”

“Wade’s Emporium?” Lena blurted out. She should have bit her tongue but none of them questioned her knowledge of that particular shop.

“Yes!” Cailan agreed.

They scaled up the mountain slowly, taking the pathway. It became narrow and eventually they were higher up than the fog. They stopped at a cliff, staring off at the landscape. Lena could make out the distant shape of Kirkwall. They would be getting the fog in a few hours. Her vision was vastly improved with her glasses on, but she did have to slide them up her nose every few minutes. She was sweating and huffing as they ascended until they came to a stop.

“Shh.” Teagan halted them. “In my youth I went dragon hunting here. There is a clearing atop the mountain. There may be dragons there, but if not then they have left the nest for now.”

“If anything there might be remains. That alone is enough to attract a wyvern.” Lena added.

They went about the bend, Nathaniel urged Lena stay behind and she did. She was not exactly ready to see a dragon in person. But she was close enough that if she needed to yell for help because of some beastie, they would hear her. She was with one of their attendants so she felt a little safer.

In the meantime she enjoyed the view, lost in thought. The high altitudes and strenuous activities for the last few days reminded her to take deeper breaths. Her body cooled and for a moment she meditated.

At least until a roar rang. She turned to watch a few of the attendants antsy and staring where the others had disappeared to.

“You all want to watch?”

“Of course not milady.” Cailan’s squire mumbled but he was antsy.

“Lets go watch.” She sighed and went forward.

The pathway bent and dipped until the clearing appeared. The walls were high around and the nest radiated heat with fires. And in the middle was the dragon. It wasn’t anywhere near as large as the high dragons in Inquisition but it was as large as a minivan but far more slender. It’s body scaled in reddish tones with an off-white underbelly. It didn’t have horns but it’s wings stretched wide to make it appear larger in a territorial gesture as it screeched.

Lena was slammed with the reality of where she was right then. That was a dragon. This was a real live dragon. It could  _kill_ her! If there even was a way home, she would die for sure with the way she’s been going about her day. She gasped and fall backwards as the dangers of this world came crashing around her. Lena's led a fairly pampered life in Kirkwall, sheltered and safe. But outside of it... was the real danger. 

She was in the middle of a _wyvern_ hunt. Was she completely mental?! She could die! 

“My lady!” Cailan’s squire called and rushed into the fray. Lena only registered what was going on as she pushed all other thoughts away, trying to calm down. _Deep breaths._

Anora dodged rolled out of the fire breathing dragon’s tail swipe. Cailan held his shield up, taking the brunt of the dragon’s forward claw attacks. Nathaniel was pinned beneath one of the back claws. Teagan was tossing stones at the dragon’s head to draw it’s attention away from Cailan. Teagan wasn’t very successful.

It looked bad. This was the King of Ferelden and his queen. One of the Warden’s future companions and the Bann of Rainsfere. And she had encouraged them here.

“Hmmm.” Lena banged her fist against the wall.

The squire had pushed Anora out of the way of another tail swipe but had been tossed aside.

 _I have to do something!_ Lena watched as they fought and struggled against the dragon. Fereldan would be plunged into chaos with just Loghain and Rendon to lead them. Alistair was only a teenage Templar at this point, by her calculations. Who knows if he even had the maturity to lead! She wouldn’t let Cailan die here!

 _Plan._ _Think - think!_ She looked around the clearing. There were dragonlings as well but they were far back in the nest and very young, as they had difficulty walking. _Hatchlings?_

She shook her head and eyed Teagan who was unsuccessful in every throw.

“By the cosmos, your aim is shit.” She cackled with nervous abandon as she ran that way. “Give me those.” She snatched the stones. With an open collar and her sleeves rolled up, she took aim.

Would she hit? Would she miss?

 _Think of it like a game?_ Lena tried. _Idiot, that’s what got you into this trouble in the first place!_

She threw it as hard as she could, aiming for the general nose area as though admonishing a dog or cat. _Bad dragon!_ _No no!_ _Bad Lena, no gutter thinking._ Her manic cackling didn’t subside as the stone hit but it pegged it in the eye.

“Good shot!” Teagan slapped her shoulder.

“Ehh… I was aiming for it’s nose?” She added.

The dragon swiveled its head. It’s maw opened.

“Duck!” Teagan pushed her down as the dragon breathed fire toward them. Teagan’s body pressed firmly against her as the fire went over them but not on them. “You have marvelous…” Teagan stared at the cleavage her open collar revealed. “Uh...aim.” He laughed.

“Nice save.” She sighed and wiggled. “That’s a big… coinpurse you have there.”

“What?” Teagan asked, confused. She wiggled against him, making sure to rub her thigh against his. He groaned. 

“Did you just get richer?” She giggled.

“Oh… maker yes.” He growled and pressed his hips against hers.

“Really? On a battlefield?” Nathaniel groaned. He’d managed to escape the dragon’s clutches and was hiding. His shirt was torn and he was covered in dirt.

“No time like the present?” Lena breathed.

“Hmm, perhaps later.” Teagan whispered and propped himself up. “We’ve a dragon to kill.”

“Right.” Lena sighed.

“Think you can aim at it’s head again?”

“Uhh... sure? If I can ignore the threat of imminent death.” She sat up as Teagan handed her more stones.

“For the nose.” Teagan called as he ran out toward the dragon with Nathaniel in tow.

“Don’t forget to duck!”

Lena took aim.

Twenty stones later, the dragon was slain with Anora chopping it’s head off. Lena was nursing an overstrained arm and eying the burn marks of her dress and skirts. Part of her top portion was covered in dirt and black marks where the dragon’s fire had caught it. She’d been too slow. Her immediate response? Stop drop and roll.

“I need a bath.” She groaned while sitting on a rock as Anora and Cailan were kissing. Teagan and Nathaniel and the attendants gave the king and queen a moment of privacy, but Lena openly stared, if only because they were both covered in dragon blood and seemed to be a whole lot more affectionate after battle than in court. Cailan gripped Anora’s chest and the queen moaned in response. 

 _Great I have to kinkshame Cailan and Anora._ Selena rubbed her face and was handed a water skin.

“Thirsty?” Teagan sat beside her.

“Yes.” She grabbed it and went to drink when the sound of tiny high pitched squeaking drew her attention “What is that?” She rose and looked toward the sound. To Lena’s relief, Cailan and Anora stopped sucking face long enough to look toward the noise.

“That would be the dragonlings.” Anora detached from Cailan and wandered forward.

“What are you doing?” Lena called, dropping all manner of honorary titles. They’d killed a _dragon_ together.

“The dragonlings are without their mother. They’ll die a slow death of starvation if we left them.” Anora added as she approached. “They are so very young.” She cooed and held her hand out to one. It sniffed her, its tongue lashing out and a puff of fire as it coughed. It wobbled on its feet.

“Oh no.” Lena cried. She hadn’t actually thought of that. She always forgot about the dragonlings in game too. _Damnit._ She crouched by Anora and eyed the little beasties. There were three of them, the eggs they hatched from not far. “They’re quite cute.”

Lena touched one of the dragonlings. It’s tiny tail wrapped around her wrist and its tongue licked against her palm. It gave a croaky purr as it sought warmth and comfort, giving another squeak.  Anora gave a delighted squeak in turn, that Lena snickered over.

“They’ll never survive on their own.” Teagan spoke. “It’s a mercy to kill them now.” His sword pierced one of the dragonlings through the heart.

Both Lena and Anora gasped in horror, frozen as Teagan quickly pierced the heart of the other one. Both Anora and Lena flinched away. On instinct, Lena picked up the last dragonling, gripping it to her chest. It shrieked in surprise. It’s claws dug deep and it bit her shoulder.

“YEOWCH! It bit me!” Lena shrieked and let it drop. “Get it get it!” She pointed at it and Teagan was quick to ‘get it.’ “Ow ow!” She hissed and turned to look at the bite. It’s teeth left puncture marks and blood was oozing out.

“Oh dear.” Anora rose and pressed her hand to Lena’s shoulder. “Cailan, get the poultice!”

“Wait! We have to wash it out.” Lena huffed.

“There may be venom in it’s bite. We have to remove it.” Anora was quick to tear more of her shirt off to get at the wound fully. “Start a fire.” Anora barked orders to the attendants. “Fetch some water and use what little fat may be in the dragon to prepare some soap, quick now!” The nest was abuzz with activity and Anora led Lena to sit down and drink from a metal flask she pulled out.

“We have to remove the venom. The quickest way would be to…” Anora cringed. “Suck it out.”

“Do it.” Lena fretted.

“Alright.” Anora sighed, but waved off the others and sealed her mouth over the wound and sucked. She spat a mouthful out before moving onto the other puncture mark. She repeated until she was sure the venom was out.

“Cailan, your sword.” Anora wiped her bloody mouth. “Heat it.” She grabbed the water that was given and the quick sudsy water. The wounds were cleaned, though Lena’s dress was entirely ruined and wet.

Lena gave a whine when it stung.

“There will be pain for a few hours.” Anora spoke.

“How do you know?”

“You think this is the first time we’ve fought a dragon?” She smiled and she lifted the collar of her shirt, showing off a fading burn scar. “Though, I’ve never been bitten by a dragonling, I imagine the venom isn’t quite so fun.”

“No… I imagine it won’t be.”

“Usually what kills someone is the dragon, _not_ the venom.”

“They were babies, though.”

“I know. Pity we couldn’t take one with us.”

“Ugh, pet dragons. That would have been so cool.” Lena sighed.

“Anora? Alright there, madame?” Cailan asked over her shoulder, and held out the red hot sword.

“This will scar.”

“Fuck it, better than risk infection.” Lena groaned. Anora held her leather glove to Lena’s mouth.

“Bite down.” Anora instructed. Nathaniel watched with a knowing smile. Lena glared at him but did as told, bracing herself for the hot metal. She wanted to watch, but as soon as the metal touched her, she turned away. Both Nathaniel and Teagan held her down to prevent her from thrashing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The coinpurse flirting was brought to you by LonelyAgain.
> 
> Fighting a dragon. Man, that was NOT in my outline at all. But hey why not? It is DRAGON Age. 
> 
> Oh hey. Because I have insane friends who just LOVE to inspire me ALL THE TIME for AUs and new stories, I now have another AU for Lena in the works. It was meant to be a one shot but SOMEONE ~~spellweaver~~ tickled my fancy and now there is a whole bloody outline. You can read it over here at [ What Would Andraste Do?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9885728)


	43. Chateau Haine, 2nd Day: Wyvern Hunt pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the second day of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. Post Dragon fight, the King and his party face off with the wyvern, only Lena doesn't want anything to do with it and runs away. Too bad she isn't lucky enough to escape notice.

Teagan offered to carry Lena down the mountain.  She’d lost far too much blood, her skin turned gray and lips blue. For a while they thought she would succumb to the poison until she gave a groan and cough, and managed to still her swaying.

“Fuck dragons.” She spat and tried to stand but had a fainting spell. Teagan was there to catch her, as was Cailan but the King’s uncle was quick to volunteer to carry her. Of course he didn’t ask but simply grabbed her.  He carried her in his arms in what Lena would refer to as _bridal_ style.

The bleeding subsided once the rest of the venom had been removed and the wound was cauterized.  They smeared poultice over it and the attendants wrapped it in bandages. One of Cailan’s attendants sacrificed his shirt for her modesty, but she pushed it away, not even caring her right shoulder was laid bare and her shirt all but ripped in half and showed off her breastband to the world. Lena just wanted off this mountain and back to safe civilization as soon as possible.

She was a city gal through and through, she was not built for this outdoors life. Bumbling about in the forests and fighting animals, rough living, and just overall _nature_. No no, she wanted the comfort of Kirkwall.  With high stone walls, chimneys, tables, and no threat of beasts in the streets. The only mammals she’d have to worry about were her spiders and occasional vermin.  She’d prefer the giant rats of Darktown.  She wanted her quills, parchments, books, and wanted Norah’s cooking at the Hanged Man, heck she’d even take Varric right about now. Varric and his nosey nature and wandering hands.

She sighed. She missed Varric. Yes she was angry with him, but that anger was waning and after only four days.

“Ugh.” She hissed as Teagan jostled her. “You can put me down you know.”

“And have you faint again? I think not.”

“I’m not the lightest of women, so it must be straining.” Lena sighed, wary of her weight.  Teagan’s muscles were hard through her clothes. They bulged with the strain of carrying her. He may be a warrior but he wasn’t battleworn. He was a noble afterall.

“A strain, I am only too pleased to endure.” He winked at her.

“Incorrigible.” Selena tutted but slipped her hand to his shoulder to hold on and lessen the strain.

The trek down the mountain was easier and faster. But once they were in the foggy forests surrounding the Chateau, she insisted she be put down once they found a potential wyvern. If only to direct Cailan’s squire in using some of the dragon blood collected over his clothes and on the feces.

Selena might have taken a moment to think things through. She’d barely survived a dragon fight, and yet here she was, encouraging a wyvern to jump out and attack intruders of its territory.

Selena wasn't thinking at all, distracted in getting things done with so she could retire. Fuck the consequences of not doing her duty, she was exhausted and wanted to curl up in bed and sleep the day away.

“Spray yourself with the blood and on the shit, and then dance around the clearing until it comes out.” Lena recalled that fight, the dance Tallis had done. She would have volunteered to do it but she liked having all her limbs and wasn’t looking forward to the Wyvern coming through.

“Dance?”

“Yeah… I’d teach you the wyvern’s mating dance and call but honestly, little tired here.” She gestured to herself. The squire didn’t further question her, but when he began running around the clearing, his arms flailing - she giggled.

“Oh maker, he’s dancing the Remigold.” Cailan snorted.

“Remigold?” Selena snickered. She paid special close attention to the dance. If she ever met Alistair, she might have to ask him to dance this. With any luck she’d get him drunk enough and in a dress and say the King asked him do it. “Wouldn’t it look better in a dress?”

“I believe a dress may flair a bit too high.” Teagan snorted.

“I think that’s the point.” Nathaniel shook his head.

Needless to say, the party was distracted.

“You’d think you could convince your squire to wear a dress?” Lena asked Cailan who chuckled.

“I could order him to-”

“Nooo.  Don’t abuse your power like that. Just… it’d be funny to see.”

“I think I’d like to see him in a dress.” Anora’s coy smile had Lena snickering.

There was a shuddering growl behind them as the air rumbled. It was similar to when the dragon gave its roar but this was akin to a baritone shrieking. The hairs on the back of their necks raised as they all turned toward a rustling bush.

The leaves burst open as the wyvern pounced forward.  Its jet black body with pale blue underbelly gleamed in the foggy light but it was the bright red and gold striped spinal ray and leathery fringes that really stood out.  It’s tail wasn’t long but it was girthy and swayed with a curved spike. Bright green liquid dripped from it’s mouth as it hissed and around it’s head a large conal frill flared open.

Lena stilled in terror as the frill was stripped in the same red on yellow as the rest of the wyvern. It shook, the bones rattling. It reared on it’s hind legs and spat vibrant green venom that sprayed forward.

Cailan pulled Nathaniel behind his large shield. Anora was quick to dodge out of the way. Had it not been for Teagen pushing her out of the way, Lena would have been coated.  

She would have quipped something at him, but even he didn’t have a playful look about him as he checked her over. He spotted a touch of the bright green venom on her skirt and promptly tore the cloth off and tossed it away.

“Stay away from the fight.” He warned and joined the others as the sounds of shuffling, metal on bone began.

Lena had no desire to join the fight. She rolled over and crawled further away.  Peering around a tree, she watched as Anora taunted the Wyvern. She was the fastest of the group and could dodge away. Lena would have guessed if she wanted to, she could be a dancer with the long lunging leaps she made. Her legs quick to snap her back up when she rolled away. All while keeping a hold of her sword.

Cailan was slowed by his armor but he hit harder, as Lena noted during the dragon fight. His face contorted into concentration as he met the wyvern head on.  His shield drawn up to block the spray of venom. He held it angled down to redirect the spray, as though used to the spray. It was the same form he had used during the dragon fight. Now that Lena had a moment to think, it reminded her of Bull’s future assessment of Cullen’s technique.

It was a templar’s form. Where had Cailan learned that?

She caught sight of Teagan however who edged just out of the wyvern’s view.  Where Anora taunted the wyvern, he would be on it’s opposite side, calculating the best angle to strike it’s legs whilst it was distracted.

Then there was Nathaniel.  He was pushed back. While he was faster than the warriors, with all the armor he wore he was still a touch too slow to take over for Anora when she appeared exhausted in baiting.  His swordsmanship was lacking in comparison to the others. He was still a fine warrior, but nowhere near as good as the others. His footwork was the only advantage in that he could just barely avoid each swipe of the tail or claws, but Cailan would have to hurry to shield him from the venom being spat.

Nathaniel and Anora worked in unison to distract the wyvern enough on one side, allowing the hard hitters, Cailan and Teagan, to dealing damaging blows on the other.

It was going well. It even looked as if the wyvern grew tired, when it charged and jumped over Nathaniel, who tried to take advantage and thrust his sword up. The sword was caught, and yanked out of Nathaniel’s grip.

But now the wyvern looked angry. It’s jaw dropped and it hissed, but instead of spitting, a green misty cloud spilled out in swirling tendrils.  Nathaniel scrambled away as the wyvern released a breath. The entire party, attendants and all gave the wyvern a wide berth as the cloud mixed with the fog.  It sparked as soon as the green cloud mixed with that of the fog, the green mist catching fire and floating in the air. The fire spread in the air, burning the fog.

Lena gaped as the fire grew larger as more of the cloud spilled out of the wyvern’s mouth. The fog was still thick and rolling and would make the fire worse, hotter even. She’d been a little backyard chemist in her youth, wanting to blow things up so much that when she’d taken actualy chemistry, she went to her mother. Suffice to say, she recognized the reaction.

_Napalm breath?!_

“Oh god run!” Lena rasped but no one heard over the roar of the wyvern and the fire swirling up in the air as the wyvern’s tail swiped. Anora was caught and tripped.  The wyvern swiped a claw at her, Cailan caught the brunt of it against his armor and bashed with his shield. One hand pressed a handkerchief to his mouth.

Cailan grunted, greaves digging into the wet dirt as it caught fire. His sword swung and pierced through its open mouth, catching it’s throat and spilling blood. With strength, concentration, and competence Lena hadn’t known him to have thus far, he took on the wyvern single-handedly as the others ran. The dancing flames cut his figure into a gallant striking knight he charged at the wyvern as it coughed up blood that was alight with fire.

It was backing up, hacking and flinching away from Cailan’s shield and sword and right into position as Teagan came jumping down from the tip of a fallen tree. He landed on the Wyvern’s neck and attempted to hold it’s jaw closed as Cailan backed away, cringing as the flaming blood on his armor heated the metal to an unbearable orange. He stripped it off and let it fall.

Lena didn’t want to see more and turned away, intent on getting further away but her path was blocked by two people - no _creatures_. Both were roughly her height and girth. Short and squat. They were armored, but covered in filth and blood. Their skin pale with splotches of dark webbing and purple bruised sickness.

One of them was large, hulking with too long arms and hunched forward like a gorilla, peering down at her. Its mouth covered in black stringy ichor and smeared with blood as it had no lips. It’s eyes bright yellow on black scleras. The other was more compact - dwarfish in appearance, if not for the large jutting lower canines jutting over its upper lip.

Both creatures didn’t move, but stared at her. The compact one tilted its head, curious of her and watching - calculating. His flat nostrils flared wide, breathing and then it eyed the injury on her shoulder. It reached a hand for her and Lena woke up and pressed back against the bark of the tree.

The sharp movement had the hulking one produce an irritated huff as it pounded it’s fists against the ground and gave a growl.

The sound and its movement had Lena pressing as far back as she could and shrieking. Her voice loud and filled with terror.

Both creatures flinched back and covered their ears. Eyes shut and brows furrowed in pain.  The compact one withdrew further from her but the hulking one recovered quick and gave a roar and slammed its fist forward, over Lena and into the tree.  It shook and splintered but was in no danger of felling.

Lena gave a sob and tried to slid away to run but it’s fist gripped her ankle and yanked her back until it was hovering over her. Its face lunged close and it took a harsh sniff over her.

She was sobbing now. She knew what happened to women when darkspawn found them. She had one chance at this, as she felt its hand press to her mouth, forcing her lips open. She took a deep breath and dropped her mouth open and screamed.

Shrill and echoing, her scream sang around them in the forest. It sang with a duality. The beast over her flinched back and away.

“DARKSPAWN!” Her scream turned throaty as she scrambled away, but again the thing grabbed at her ankle. This time the compact one was on her, covering her mouth and hissing things in a language she didn’t know and didn’t care to know. She spit against it’s hand, trying to get its disease away from her.

She didn’t have to struggle long. The genlock fell limp against her as a sword pierced through its middle. Black blood spilled. Lena sobbing as she pushed it off her, quick to get it away.

“Ohgodohgodohgod!” She cried, tears tracking down as she tore at the parts of her skirts that it’s blood had touched. The taint and blight a harsh reminder of things to come.

Fabric ripped and tore until she could no longer see the stain of darkspawn blood on her, leaving her in short and ripped skirts. She huddled against the tree staring at the bodies and decapitated head of the hulking one. The one who slew them, was on one knee, panting as he grunted. He looked up at her, worry etched in his brow.

“Are you alright?” He asked tiredly.

Lena was still crying as she avoided the bodies but hearing the faintly familiar voice, one she heard many times over as she replayed Origins over and over in hopes to change that first battle, and yet here he was. His dark hair swept back in a ponytail, streaks of gray in his locks. The blue and griffons of the Grey Warden uniform and his skirt raised with his knee. Blood stained the cloth of his effects with protruding arrows. It alerted her to him being injured, likely more than her.

“I-I…” She stammered.

“Did they bleed on you? Excrete any of their sickness?” He was up and approaching her. His gloves and vambraces removed quick before his hands were on her.  He checked her over for any signs of the taint infecting her. He scrutinized the injury on her shoulder. “You’re injured. Did they bite you?” His tone was serious.

“Dragon bite.” She muttered.

“Dragon?” His brows rose high. “You were fighting a dragon?”

“Not me.. Uh. no Uh.” She stammered and lost her train of thought as his bare fingers pressed against her injury. He checked her over. “A recent dragon hatchling.” She managed between pained whines. “That hurts…”

“My apologies. I am assuring you haven’t been exposed.” He said and continued checking. “Where else did they touch you?”

Lena could hardly stand it but she touched her lips. “They covered my mouth.”

“Your mouth?” His frown was not reassuring.

“I tried to spit it all out but…” Lena’s chest felt tight. This was it. She was going to die because of the taint. “Oh god...” She sobbed.

“Hmm.” He spoke with a look of pity. “I see no signs of the taint.” He assured her.

There was a hanging but on that statement. Her panic rose.

“But you don’t know.” She rasped. He didn’t deny it. “Sometimes it can take hours - days even!” Lena’s voice became high pitched in her panic.

“You won’t-” Duncan tried to calm her but she was quick to break down into a mess of tears and sobs. Her hands over her mouth, her face screwed up red and ugly as she sobbed at the thought.

Duncan looked around them, though in pain from the arrows, he was unsure how best to handle this situation. He could face a small darkspawn raid without so much as a blink but a crying lass was another matter. While not entirely unfamiliar, most of his compatriots were...well seasoned combatants.

Lowering his voice, he raised one hand to grab the dwarven woman’s hand and pulled it away.  With as much charm as he could muster in his old age, he gave her a warm smile. With a calm and collected voice he spoke.

“I do not believe you were exposed.”

“But you don’t know!”

“No. but I will be vigilant and watch for signs.” It was true. He was unsure if she had been exposed. If the darkspawn had indeed pressed its hand over her mouth, she could have swallowed anything in her panic. For some, the taint’s spread was immediate; for others - days.  He stared at her. It would only take a day or two to be sure if she was tainted. He would begin to sense her, like he could the darkspawn.

She’d meant to say something but shouts and a roaring fire roused her from the intensity of his promising gaze.

“The wyvern!” She yelped and was scrambling up and peering around the tree. Duncan was quick to follow after her, curious when his shoulders tensed to see the King of Ferelden and his party engaged in battle with a fire-poison wyvern. A dangerous sort where not even water could quell the flames of it’s misty poison breath.

“Maker’s balls, your majesty!” He lost all decorum as he rushed into the fray.  The King was like a child. To engage a wyvern, all on his. The presence of darkspawn bodies forgotten as he worried for the boy’s safety. Though he was no boy, the King certainly acted like it.

“Duncan?” Cailan’s blonde hair was drenched in sweat as he lost the concentration he’d held. He was pushed down by the wyvern’s claws and cried out in pain.

“Cailan!” came several calls of alarm. The king’s armor had been long gone and there was nothing protecting him from the spreading fire cloud as it leached onto him and burned bright. Cailan grit his teeth but the pain gave out as he howled.

“Ohfuckohfuck!” Lena yelped and danced around the edge of the battle but the King was on fire, burning. One of the attendants tried to cover him in water as soon as the wyvern retreated away - being beaten backed by Teagan, Nathaniel, and Duncan.  The water made it worse. Lena darted over and slid to her knees next to Anora. “DIRT!  Dry dirt! Sand! Get it.”  She barked at the attendants.

“What?”

“It will smother it!” Lena explained.  The little bit of Cailan’s tunic was burning rapidly, the blackened threads curling and exposing skin. She risked her fingers and yanked the remains off with Anora as they tossed it aside. The only thing left on Cailan that still burned was his arms. Lena cringed and did the next best thing. She tossed herself ontop of him to deprive the fire of oxygen. Anora did the same, and though both women yelped as the fire hurt - it lessened.

“Oh I could get used to this.” Cailan managed between pained breaths, even as his attendants came with a handfuls of dirt. It was damp, but it would do. They dumped it on Cailan and Lena packed it on Cailan’s arms and chest where she could still see the sparks of fire lingering on the gel that had spread through the mist. They were only so lucky it had been in mist form and not been a gasoline. They rubbed the dirt against Cailan and themselves.

“It needs to stay smothered for a long while with no exposure to air.” Lena instructed as she pressed Cailan’s arms down with dirt piled high on top of him.  Anora followed her lead as they were all three covered in dirt.

But of course, there was the matter of the wyvern who gave a mighty hissing roar and once again began to release a misted cloud. Lena despaired, wanting to run away as Duncan and Teagan directed the Wyvern’s attention away, only for fusillade of arrows to come soaring through to puncture through the open mouth of the wyvern, right next to where Cailan had skewered it with his sword.

Lena followed the arrows to find Nathaniel standing where one of the squires had been. He’d stolen their bow and was focusing his efforts on releasing arrow after arrow, drawing closer as two of the arrows got the wyvern in the eyes. The wyvern swiped forward but Nathaniel danced away, no longer encumbered by his heavy armor and weapons. The wyvern was blinded and Nathaniel let it lung for him and he fell back, gripping the sword that was stuck to the wyvern’s underside and twisted it up despite it’s thrashing.

It gave a whining roar and stumbled away as blood gushed from the wound. Nathaniel crawled out from under it as it fell to the ground and stilled.

“Maker’s breath that was hard.” Nathaniel huffed, pressing his hands to his knees.

“Would have been easier if you’d used a bow from the start.” Teagan complained but slapped his shoulder.

Lena groaned as she rested her head in her arms.

Cailan had a change of clothes with his attendants, as did Anora. While they had fresh garments, it did little to hide the filth, exhaustion, and layer of ash off them.  Unfortunately for Lena, she wasn’t so lucky. She had nothing to change into and had to remain as exposed as she was on their trek back to the Chateau. The squires held the wyvern’s now chopped head up and were dragging it as a trophy. Though the real prizes were the several boxes worth of dragon scales and webbings they had collected.

They had taken a moment to burn the darkspawn, after which Cailan complained that he hadn’t gotten to kill them. But was swiftly reminded of the dragon he had slain and his participation in slaying a wyvern, facts displayed by the fresh burn marks covered in poultice on his arms and chest and the now severe cut of his hair where part of it had caught fire as well.

Lena shivered, feeling filthy and exhausted. Though surprisingly, she felt far more worried about the layer of dirt, blood, and filth rather than her being exposed. That didn’t seem to matter to Teagan or Nathaniel as they kept her mostly hidden from view as they entered the camp outside of the Chateau to cheers and applause.  Prosper greeted Nathaniel as Cailan confirmed he was the one to have taken down the wyvern, of course it was quickly forgotten as tales of the dragon fight came through.

Lena had no desire to join in on this particular revelry and separated from the main group to search for the healer’s tent, or someplace where she could disappear off to. Spying, Prudence, she bound toward her quick before any of the other nobles noticed her.

She passed close to the walls of the Chateau toward the Copper Maiden’s tent where Prudence was speaking with Madam Giselle.  The mercenaries were situated a little too close to be a coincidence. She spied Faith returning from the bushes with one of them. Lena had nearly forgotten that she’d seen Iron Bull and started upon seeing him leaning against a tree, observing everything in the mass of tents. He appeared disinterested, but she spied his ears perked in attention and toward where Cailan was regaling the crowd with how they fought the dragon.

“Boasting about slaying a dragon, pompous king couldn’t have done that.” Came a growl from a heavily armored elf.

“Hm.” Iron Bull’s reply grumbled but he was paying close attention to the group, listening when he he caught Lena’s stare. He sent a grin at her and raked his eyes down her short body.

Selena turned away and headed for Prudence. Varric’s editor was shocked to see the state she was in. Her eyes wide and mouth pert.

“Maker’s tears.”

“Maker my ass. I am _never_ doing that again.” She groaned. “Do you know how hard it is to slay a dragon? Then a wyvern, not to mention the darkspawn!” Her shrill voice carried but the nobility was louder. Only the other prostitutes and the mercenaries heard her. One in particular perked up.

The tracks of tears down her cheeks were wiped away as Prudence produced a wet hankerchief to begin cleaning.

“You’re…” Prudence started not knowing where to start.

“Exhausted. Tired, suffering from a _dragonling bite._ ” She gestured at her bandaged shoulder.  “And burns from wyvern breath that caught on _fire_ when it hit water. Seriously!” She gasped.  “Not to mention… potentially tainted.” She whispered that last part. “Darkspawn… _darkspawn._ ” She poked at Prudence. “Never. Again.” She hissed and snatched the cloth to wipe at herself. She was going to wait for the mass of nobility to disappear before she attempted to get into the Chateau again and to her quarters.

“Hmm.” Prudence didn’t glare but even she knew to keep quiet, despite the slight twitching in her hand. At the least, she had tact.

Denier meandered away from the crowd of nobility and squawked seeing Lena.

“I can’t leave you alone!” He exclaimed and tossed his jacket off to cover her.

“No. Never leave me alone. Seriously. Everytime I’m left alone… this shit happens.” She gestured to herself. “At least my glasses didn’t break.”  She sighed and pushed her spectacles up. “Thank the cosmos for small miracles.” She sighed. “Where’s Dip? Adriano?”

“Working.” Denier fussed at her hair. “Where’s your pet?”

“Let it in the room.  I figured I might lose him if I brought him anywhere close to the wilderness. Now I’m glad I did. Seriously... _dragon_.”

“Varric’s going to be jealous.”

“Varric can kiss my ass.” She growled.

“But think of the stories he’ll spin from this for his new book.” Denier smirked. Prudence smiled wide at that conclusion.

“Ugh.” She got up and walked away to pout and seethe away from him.

“Ah come on!”

“Bugger off.” She hissed and sat down by the wall, a little ways down from the mercenaries. They gave her a wide berth. Though some of them leered at her exposed calves and mid thighs from her torn skirts and her exposed breastband. She managed to wipe away much of the dirt and mud, but she’d need a thorough scrub down to truly feel clean.

“So a dragon?” Inquired Iron Bull above her.

Lena yelped, having not heard him approach.  She sent him a withering look as he hovered over her.  She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to talk to him. They hadn’t even been properly introduced.  

“Just who are you anyway?”

“Name’s the Iron Bull, I’m with the Fisher’s Bleeders.” He rumbled and held a cloth out to her. “Your other’s a bit dirty now, wouldn’t do to just spread the dirt around.”

“Thanks.” Lena mumbled.  “Fisher’s Bleeders? And what are the Bleeders doing here?”

“Bodyguards. Just to keep the riffraff away.”

“Riffraff?”

Bull gestured to the wilderness. “During the Tourney.”

“I thought the tourney was open to the public?” Lena frowned.

The mercenaries laughed, Bull smirked. “So Prosper says. But he’s hosting it to control the winners.”

“But thats… _cheating_.”

“Well when you’ve got coin riding on who’ll represent Kirkwall in next years’ Grand Tourney, you do everything you can.” Said the elf.

“Surely a courtesan would have known that?” Bull asked with his arms crossed.

“I don’t necessarily follow the Tourney.” Lena frowned and lapsed into silence.

The elf sniffed and turned away, sensing when she’d dismissed them. But not Bull. No he hovered still and watched her.

“You never answered.” Bull prodded with his foot against her. “Was it a dragon?” There was a bit of a jealous gleam in his eyes but it was smothered away.

Lena pursed her lips before grinning. She stood up and gestured with her hands. “Oh yeah. It was a dragon. Big, the size of two carts lined up. Breathed fire and was huge!”

“Yeah?” His tone was even but his eyelids widened a tad before he controlled his excitement.

Lena chuckled and gave a pleased sigh. “Taarsidath-an halsaam.” She tipped her head down. “Thanks for the cloth.” She handed it back to him and left him and the elf alone.

Iron Bull and the elf watched her walk off.

“Was that Qunlat?” The elf asked.

“Yeah, think so.” Bull shrugged at his merc band leader

“Think you can translate?”

“Eh not really. Parents never taught me.”

“Right, cause you’re one of those…”

“Tal-Vashoth.” Only the title burned the back of his throat, but he sold the lie. Because he did know what she said. The problem was, where had she learned one of Koslun’s proverbs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs face tiredly* Back on track with my more NORMAL chapter lengths. the last couple chapters where it was long just exhausted me. It really did. I need a break. So of course I posted a fic I'd been working on for some time. 
> 
> This was another action packed chapter. That wyvern fight was HARD to write. I took inspirations from the dilophosaurus for the wyvern's frill, and thought "wouldn't it be fun if there was a napalm like substance on Thedas, but worse?" and tossed in napalm-like spittle. Terrifying... It also goes in with my headcanon that like dragons, wyverns have different breeds and thus different breaths/poisons. Most of the ones around Chateau Haine have just poison breath but I threw in the igniting spit. 
> 
> [Amashi_zaino](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Amashi_zaino/pseuds/Amashi_zaino) in a comment for last chapter gave me a great idea to have Bull ask about the dragon and Lena to tout the line "Taarsidath-an halsaam." Obviously it didn't go exactly how Amashi wrote it because I had an agenda. There is a reason why Bull is present, and it's not JUST because the Fisher's Bleeders were hired as bodyguards. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed it!


	44. Chateau Haine, 3rd Night pt1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. With the Wyvern hunt over, the celebration begins with some much needed TLC. Tender Loving Care from one Grey Warden, who knew they were so good with their hands.

Selena brushed off talk of healers in an instant, not wanting to _inconvenience_ the Duke. She did however insist that Duncan check to be absolutely certain she wasn’t tainted and that required a thorough examination.

Duncan was no healer and he was only privy to mortal wounds that always led toward becoming tainted. There was no sure way to be certain that Madame Selena was not infected with the taint, cept to wait, but he would do his best. He was prepared to at the least help her properly clean her wound and bandage it, after having his taken care of and then assuring her it would take time. He had heard ancient tales of some Grey Wardens who became tainted whilst purely in the presence of Darkspawn. Those tales noted it was always during a Blight. 

Still, he took this seriously. It had been centuries since the last blight but the documents all read the same. This _felt_ like a Blight but no one was certain. None in the order wished to say it but they were skittish. Missives from Weisshaupt warned of certain signs to look out for, but the word hadn’t been used.

Duncan expected many things on that alone. He expected the rise in Darkspawn appearance. He expected crop yields to begin to wither; he expected raids increasing in size. 

He did not expect a dwarven prostitute to strip down to her smalls in front of him sporting a fresh bite from a dragonling asking for a _thorough_ examination.

Duncan’s gaze tracked over her exposed upper body. Her injured shoulder was not marked by the black webbing of taint infection, instead it was red, yellow, and green with infection. Her skin was pale. He could not help but think the pallid color of her skin as sickly, and deathlike. Akin to those who retreated from the sun for many months whilst ill, protected. Only for them to become ever more sick and diseased. 

Ideally, Duncan would wait for a female healer skilled in the taint to arrive, but it may be too late by the time she arrived.

Selena’s skin was near grey, her lips blue and eyes glazed over. He could attribute that to blood loss. He held a replenishing potion out to her. Keenly aware of how her skin beheld a sloping tan the further away from the bite, he could not help himself just this once.

“Are you always this pale?”

“I wasn’t always.” Lena sighed. “I’ve been ill for some time now. Doesn’t help I don’t get as much sun anymore in Kirkwall.” It was a fact. Years battling her thyroid, doctors prescribing medicine to bring it under control and then losing insurance did not help her ability to go outside. It was the one clear sign of how drastic things had turn before. Her skin no longer quite as tan and healthy, was now pasty and… to be frank, gross. Not that she had anything against white people. It wasn’t an indicator of her being healthy; instead it indicated something was very wrong.

He nodded. Besides the bite, he detected a noted level of exhaustion beneath her eyes, a quickened heart rate by the thumping of veins on her neck. Her pupils were wide and blown. And yet she gave the appearance as though this was her resting. He was no healer, but even he could see this woman, this dwarf was not fit for combat on that alone. He shook his head. 

“Are you able to tell when the taint has infected someone?” Lena inquired.

“I am but it would be improper for me to perform a thorough examination.”

“And why is that?”

“I am no healer and I am a man. It would be inappropriate for me to see you bared.”

“As if I haven’t been laid bare in front of strangers before.”

“I-... pardon?”

“I’m a prostitute, Grey Warden.” She smiled at him. “I’m not exactly uncomfortable baring myself to strangers.”

He was no stranger to ladies of the night, but most at least kept up appearances of bashful modesty. Clearly she was a different breed.

Duncan pressed at her injury, she hissed. “You should have the Duke’s healer look into it.”

“Not before you check for the taint. I want to be sure.”

“It may take a few days to be absolutely certain.”

“Then I will pay you for examining me. Is there any measures that can be taken to prevent…” She didn’t say it, but he watched her jaw clench. No one liked the possibility of being tainted.

“It will certainly improve your chances if we get this wound properly cleaned.” He sighed and stepped back. He had already been bandaged himself. Arrows removed, poultice and bandages covering his modest wounds by the King’s attending cleric. He would have thought to be more exhausted once it was finished but he found a second wind, if only to aid the dwarfess.

“This may hurt.” He washed his hands before handling the rag to help clean her dragonling bite.

“I’m no stranger to pain.” She smirked with a flick of her tongue.

That… Duncan had to clear his throat before proceeding.

Her teeth clenched as soon as he pressed against the wound. Pus and infection pooled out and he wiped it away. He did it again and again until it was cleared. The wound was red - far more than it had but the green was less. There was blood still, but it wasn’t trickling and bleeding any longer. He gave it a final wipe but froze when something _glowing blue_ caught his eye but by the time he returned his gaze, it was gone. He tried to find the blue again but it was nowhere. It had been a few days since he slept but still he was not yet _that_ exhausted. Perhaps the fight with the wyvern had left him weary?

“You will need to clean this once a day.” He put a layer of poultice on and paused.

“Figured. Like any wound. Clean it, change the bandages, as it begins to scab over let it be exposed to the air. Still no sign of the taint right?”

“None of the usual signs.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not infected though.”

“Sadly, no.” He wouldn’t lie about her chances.

“If...if I am. Will you make me a Grey Warden?” She asked in earnest, staring up at him.

“Where did you hear that?” Duncan squinted. While it wasn’t an unusual leap to make, why would a prostitute know of such a practice? Her eyes widened and she looked away and bit her lip. Duncan watched her carefully then. 

“Well, its in the legends, the history books. Become tainted, only cure is to become a Grey Warden?”

“Ah.” Folklore. He nodded, but something was off. “It may save you, but it is no easy choice to be a Grey Warden.”

“But you guys need clerks right?”

“Clerks?”

“Parchment pushers. I assume you don’t just all hire on clerks at each of your keeps. The Grey Wardens are a secretive bunch. You’d need someone that was a bonafide warden to trust to handle all your paperwork.”

“That is highly presumptuous of you.” Duncan smiled. “You speak as though we have things we need to hide.”

“Well. Don’t we all?” Her eyes darkened. “Everyone has secrets. Everyone has things they don’t want people to know. With an order as old as the Grey Wardens, there are bound to be all sorts of secrets...secrets that the general populace should never know.”

Duncan stared hard at all. If everyone had secrets, then what were hers? _Does she know something?_ His brows furrowed as he considered her. Should he make her a Grey Warden? What did she know?

“Don’t look so serious. If the Grey Wardens are hiding something I wouldn’t know it.” She laughed and sat back, her serious tone dropped. “I just call out bullshit. Lots of bullshit in Grey Warden history. But… I don’t know anything. Shit…” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m not even right in the head right now. Too much blood loss. _Should really learn to keep my mouth shut._ ”

Duncan did not believe her, but he didn’t press her. Not for lack of want but he spied Selena’s shadow. When she had been escorted to her room, an elf had trailed after her claiming to be her bodyguard. That same elf was present. 

“I believe that should be all.” He would have to remember to check on her again tomorrow, if her bodyguard permitted. Perhaps he may even question her more.

He left the room intent to retire to his own chambers near Cailan’s if only to rest before dinner. Each step felt heavier and the distance from where he was to the royal chambers felt longer. He took a shuddering breath. He was getting on his years. He managed to drag himself to his room. He had but a few hours to himself to bathe, change clothing, and catch a couple hours of sleep before the door was burst open. Cailan, impatient as ever had sent an invitation to join them for dinner. He was expected to go of course, especially as he had aided in slaying the wyvern.

“Ho Duncan!” Cailan greeted him as he met the King in his room. They were to share a wine before joining the rest of the party in the east cabinet.

“How are you fairing? Are your burns well cared for?”

“Yes, Anora’s maid is very helpful. But enough of that. Prosper has had the kitchens working tirelessly to prepare a grand feast with the wyvern we slew!” Cailan beamed.

“Ah that seems quite well. The beast was mighty indeed.”

“You'll join us, won't you Duncan?” Cailan beamed.

His boyish smile reminded him of another Therin child. Younger. But last he saw Alistair was in the Templar Order.

“Of course, Cailan.” He complied to the King. If only to get the boy alone. Preparations needed to be made. If darkspawn were beginning to show this far north, then they may need to consider contacting the ruling parties of the Marches. Thus far the only sightings had been contained to Ferelden. Worrisome, and one he needed to take into account.

The archdemon hadn't yet made itself known, but the darkspawn. They were restless, driving and growing in numbers. If Duncan closed his eyes - he could hear them. Deep in the very taint that connected him to them. Something was coming. He only hoped he could convince Cailan to prepare.

“Cailan given yesterday's events, I strongly urge that we discuss Ferelden’s defenses against the darkspawn.” Duncan tried. He had made his concerns known before but now was the time to take them seriously. Or at least try to prepare Cailan into seeing reason to prepare.

They had arrived early to the feast and were by themselves. Teagan was not yet present nor Howe. This was an opportune moment.

“Defenses?” Cailan tilted his head.

“The darkspawn, your majesty, are no simple enemy.” Duncan reiterated. “The Order believes there are larger numbers rising, surfacing. It would be prudent for Ferelden to prepare. Have you not received reports of attacks?”

Cailans’s brows furrowed as he considered the words. “They were small bands. But I've only heard of a few recently-”

“And they will increase in size and frequency. We have to be careful. Tis better to be prepared should the need arise.” Duncan spoke. “The darkspawn are ruthless and-” Duncan halted his words as the rise in nobility surrounded them.

“Later then. Perhaps, with my uncle and Howe? We can discuss where the Order can begin examining.”

“Examining?”

“While you may be right about the rise in attacks. I don't think it's anything to worry about.” Cailan shrugged. “Just a few wandering bands of them. But I'll trust you on handling how to keep it under control.”

Duncan sighed. It was a start.

* * *

 

  
Lena grumbled. She whined and then grumbled some more as Prudence shook her awake.

“I'm not going.” She groaned as she tightened her hold on the blanket.

“You must.”

“I just survived a dragon hunt and wyvern hunt. Fuck off.” She hissed.

“And you'll survive the feast as well.” Prudence seethed and the blanket was yanked from Lena’s grasp.

“My shoulder still hurts.” It didn't but she'd milk every ounce of sympathy from the injury. Her foolish instinct to hold onto the dragonling. _Stupid._ She should have remembered not all creatures of Thedas are like her spiders.

Not much of any creatures are like her spiders.

“Oh pity. You will manage.”

“But-”

“Nothing.” Prudence tsked and tossed the dress Lena was meant to wear.

Lena eyed the white long skirted thing. It was similar to last night's dress but this one more sheer. “Ugh!” Lena rolled over. “Why are all these dresses so…”

Prue was still in her quarters, throwing aside each curtain. She paused to look back at Lena as she raised the dress up and crinkled her nose. One single brow forced its way up.

“Long.” Lena made a disgusted noise and slid off the bed. She'd had a nap after Duncan had finished his examination. Not that she wouldn't mind a more thorough examination from him. She sighed. Too bad she'd wasted her alone time with him being scared and -

She crinkled her nose.

A damsel.

“Ugh.” She huffed as she pulled off the bandage on her arm. The bite was still puffy and red and she was paler than normal. Sickly. It was the sort of tan-bleaching bloodloss she was used to. She could remember the last time she had blood drawn. Two vials filled and she had gone gray and threw up on the technician. It took a whole day for her to get back to normal. She couldn’t drive and the world had been much too bright for her due to the loss of just that little amount of blood. Lena had her anemic state to blame for that.

And now, she was sure she had lost a pint at least of blood during the bite, recovery, and subsequent cleaning. Yet she was still functional. Better even. While she was still gray, she didn't feel light headed, didn't feel like throwing up and she definitely didn't feel too tired. Sore maybe, but she blamed that on climbing a mountain and being bitten by a dragon. Her shoulder was all kinds of sore but she could handle soreness.

Mentally, she felt fine, but she was Latina. Raised by a _very_ Puerto Rican mother. If you weren’t openly vomiting, passing out, or bleeding profusely, then you were healthy enough. She remembered the time in grade school she’d appeared clammy and pale to her teachers. She’d put her head down once and was sent to the nurses, only for them to call an ambulance as she’d had a 39.4 degree fever. A trooper they’d called her.

Her will to go on as normal was stronger than her need to be comforted or babied, as her mother called it. But since the diagnosis of her thyroid… she was painfully aware of the symptoms to watch out for. Her flare up earlier and subsequent quieting had lulled her into a false sense of security and now… now she was suffering. With a gradual acclimatization of a raised heart rate, jittery manic energy, and an increased appetite, she was far from fine. She held her hand out and scowled as her hands shook. She’d have to keep herself in check so as not to clatter the utensils tonight. There’ll be no reason to _not_ visit Tita, despite her mistrust of her actions past. If Tita was the only dwarf healer, then she’d have to bite the bullet. Even if it turned out she had the blight. Maybe she could impress on Tita a possible cure using a very specific Ferelden flower called Andraste’s Grace. Lena shuddered at the thought of that knowledge getting out.

If she survived after all of the stuff only to be changed into a ghoul, captured by darkspawn and turned into a brood mother. Lena would beg for death before it got that far.

“The skirts are too long?” Prudence’s fingers slid over the dress now. Her unsettling presence, aura, and smell too close for comfort. Her oily lips stretched. A shudder ran through Lena as she caught the black tongue flick out with glee. “I'll be sure your garments for tomorrow have much shorter skirts.”

Lena was going to regret that. She knew it.

A bath, redressing the wound with some more poultice and with her hair half up in a bun and the rest in curls, she slipped the dress on. It was nearing on sheer again. The neckline wasn't so low as the other. There was one sleeve covering her injury loosely enough it didn't agitate the bandages. Her other shoulder was laid bare. The dress hung in layers over tights she wore underneath. At least this time she wouldn't be completely naked underneath.

With boots on, she exited her room and out into the courtyard with Athenril. They were met with the sight of Sebastian and Nathaniel being glowered at by Denier.

“Think it's nice to send my little sister off to fight a dragon?” Denier growled, his arms laid bare showing off the bulging muscles Lena hadn't thought he had. Well she knew he had them, but it was the sort of thing you don’t notice in someone who you consider family. Denier was definitely family, surrogate family.

“Please messere, that wasn't my intent.” Nathaniel muttered.

“Right. Inviting her wasn’t your idea either?”

“Actually it wasn’t.” Lena chimed. “You can blame Prudence for my going.”

“Prudence?” Denier frowned.

“Oh yeah, practically threw me into the Dragon’s path.” Lena stepped in between Sebastian and Nathaniel and beamed at them both. Sebastian however frowned, worry etched into his brow.

“Lena…you do not look well.”

“Really? Cause I sure as fuck feel fine!” A lie, but she gave a coy smile. “I heard there’s going to be wyvern meat at tonight’s feast? I’ve never had it.”

The mention of food seemed to soothe Sebastian’s concerns but he wasn’t fully convinced.

“They will also be serving aquae lucidius.” Nathaniel added. “The entire wyvern feast is a large celebration for those who attend the hunt.”

“What is aquae lucidus? Per my translation it just means… water of light? Or light water?” Lena frowned.

“That is the literal translation.” Sebastian smiled.

“It’s a wine. Made with wyvern venom.” Denier piped up. “You’re not going to have any.”

“Why not?” Lena frowned.

“You’re already sick and injured! You don’t need that sort of wine in you. Your decisions are questionable enough already.” Denier shook his head.

“Pfft. It’s just wine. I’m assuming the venomous qualities are gone.” Lena looked up at Nathaniel.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s more to do with the-”

“Hallucinatory effects.” Serendipity was the one to speak up from Denier’s side. “I have to agree with Denier, Selena. You’re not to drink that.”

“What are you my mother now?” Lena snarked.

“If that’s what it takes.” Dip crossed her arms.

“Fine. I won’t drink the stupid wine.” Lena shook her head as they made it to the garden where dinner would be. It was outdoors, the garden had warmed during the day but the night chill would clear the effect. Braziers of blazing fire lit the garden up and warmed it. There were tables set up with dining cloths and appetizers much like last night’s dinner. There were far more people around too, as this was open to not just nobility and royalty but rich merchants and the three respective prostitute houses with their “wares” on display.

Lena waved goodbye to Nathaniel and Sebastian who left her to join, as she figured Cailan, Duncan, Anora, Teagan, and Howe. Selena was by her people. The prostitutes of the Rose were all well dressed. Denier in the same pink outfit, but this time without a jacket. His chest on display and sleeves rolled up. Adriano was the same. Faith and Serendipity were there with shawls over their shoulders and whispering. Athenril was besides Lena, sour as she could be.

“Well? Mingle time?” Lena asked.

“I’ve got my patrons for tonight already.” Serendipity boasted.

“What? You do?!” Faith gaped.

“I work fast. While you were fulfilling your dalliances with those mercenaries, I did what I was supposed to.”

“Names then?” Lena asked as she pulled out a parchment from the bag Athenril still possessed from earlier. The sole pen she brought with her clicked and she was writing in quick strokes.

“Teagan Guerrin and Goran Vael.” Dip grinned.

Lena whistled low. “Cha-ching indeed.”

“Cha...ching?” Denier asked.

“Uh, nevermind.” Lena waved off their question.

“Lady Mantillon has courteously and generously offered fifty sovereigns to have me claimed for each night of this week.” Adriano purred out.

“Lady Mantillon, why does that name sound familiar?” Lena frowned as she wrote it down.

“Probably because you’ve heard tales of her many husbands. One dying right after the other. She’s come to the Chateau with her eighth husband?” Adriano explained.

“No, it’s her ninth.” Dip corrected.

“Eight husbands and they all died mysteriously.” Denier rubbed his chin.

“Huh.” Lena squinted. “I’d be careful then.” Lena scribbled down the amount and frowned. “Wait, fifty sovereigns?” She squinted. “For the whole week?”

Adriano grinned. “I’m amazing. I know.”

“I’ll believe it when I’ve got the coin in my hand.” Lena leant forward and tapped the lockbox she was keeping the coin in.

“You sound just like Lusine.” Denier snickered.

“Won’t she be proud.” Lena rolled her eyes. “What about you two?”

“I’ve got a few interested. Give it time.” Denier shrugged, completely nonchalant. Faith on the other hand looked around the garden with a cringe.

“We still running that bet?” Adriano asked, leaning against a railing as more guests filtered into the garden.

“Bet?” Lena frowned. “What bet?”

“Er…” All four of them looked between each other.

“If there is a bet, I’d like to know. I have to account for all coin earned on this trip and you’re not to use any that you have earned to pass between each other.” Lena squinted at them.

“Relax.” Denier waved off her concerns. “It’s just to see who can earn more coin and how many customers we can get is all.”

“Pfft.” Lena snorted. “Okay. So long as the victor is paid _after_ we get back to Kirkwall.”

“Sure.” Denier shrugged, but signalled otherwise to the rest.

“And…” Lena grinned thinking of the contract she had to draft for Ferenna, Rinna, and Zevran. “I’d like to participate in this bet.”

“You? But you’re not working.” Faith was incredulous. “You’d be throwing coin away.”

“Shush, Faith.” Adriano gave a wide grin. “It’s a five sovereign minimum pay in.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Well then. I’ll definitely take that bet.” Lena held her hand out. Adriano shook it.

“Just so you know, we only count it once per customer.”

“So each customer only counts once right?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize you’ve taken into this bet, already knowing Adriano is winning by making the most.” Faith asked.

“Oh I don’t know… I think I can top that.” Lena shrugged.

The four of them looked at her and peeled into giggles.

“Sure honey.” Adriano patted her shoulder.

“Want to double that bet?” Lena looked up with a grin.

“Lena, you’re injured. And you’re meant to be overseeing us. Not working on your back.” Denier began reasoning.

“Afraid of a little competition?” Lena taunted.

“Not even a little.” Adriano grinned. “Double or nothing.”

“Agreed.” Lena’s lips stretched wide and she sat back. “I still want that coin in my hand for Mantillon.”

“You’ll get it tonight, don’t worry.”

“Hmm.”

The garden at that point was filled and the nobles and royals were being served plates. All the “serving” guests like the Blooming Rose, Copper Maidens, and Seamstresses had to stay standing, she was fine with that. They were situated at different locales in the garden. Unsurprisingly and almost in a cliche manner, they were located near several blooming rose bushes. These roses were pink, red, and she spied a few violet ones. Not exactly blue but more purple.

“Huh...blue roses. Odd.” Lena commented as Serendipity was drawn away by one of the de Launcets.

“They’re enchanted.”

“Such blatant use of magic.” Lena tilted her head.

“Nobility can get away with a lot, for the right amount of coin.” Athenril muttered as Lena turned her gaze back to the dinner. The nobility had long finished eating, which meant everyone else could now dine on the leftovers. If there was any left after that, it would go to the servants. Or she hoped.

Denier was drawn away by a pair of twins. He flexed his muscles for them and they were taken in by his _convenient_ dwarfish stature.

Faith was drawn up into a conversation by an older Orlesian noble who wore her mask properly. Yet the way the older woman kept touching Faith’s wrist and collarbone, even as they moved onto dancing - the tinkling of a quartet over the sound of idle chatter, was indicative of her desire to peruse of Faith's wares. 

Adriano, true to his word, returned with a rather heavy purse. Lena counted it and sent him off to join a faintly familiar looking older woman. It tickled the back of her mind like she’d seen the woman in a painting of a sorts. She spied Prudence skirting the edges of the garden, the noble mage gave a knowing nod to Lena as the _purchase_ was made and she would see the transaction filled.

Lena was left alone with Athenril for all of two seconds before a certain Bann of Rainsfere was sauntering her way.

“Teagan.” Lena smiled

“Madame.” Teagan tilted his head down to look at her. “How do you fair?”

Looking up at him, there was a darker clint to his eye as he questioned her.

“Want to find out for yourself?”

Teagan’s responding grin was all she needed as she handed the bag to Athenril.

“A few minutes.”

“Ouch.” Teagan mocked and placed his hand over his heart. “I’m sure we’ll need at least half an hour.” 

“If you can last that long.” Lena smirked.

Teagan gave a growling laugh. “Shall we, Madame?”

“Won’t you be missed?” Lena looked toward where she saw Cailan leading Anora around the dance floor, staring at his feet. Anora kept tapping his chin to look up. Then she looked at Nathaniel, his father, and Sebastian speaking. Sebastian had a forced smile. He caught her looking. One poised auburn eyebrow rose before he looked away, the flash of a smirk.

“I can spare a moment.”

* * *

 

“Rinna.” Ferenna purred the name as she gazed across the table to the female crow. “ _You seem distracted._ ” 

Rinna had her red mask on to offset her blonde locks and accentuate the glow of her skin. She was uncomfortable with this sort of assignment, but if she wanted Ferenna’s cooperation - she had to look the part. Normally Zevran did the seducing, Rinna was always far away with the plans. Only a fair few times was she actually present for the fight.

For instance, the fight which introduced her to her patron. The assassination of Prince Azrin was a historic event for the Crows. They had been assigned to assassinate Ferenna. Their plan was to sneak Zevran in to seduce her but Ferenna’s taste proved less masculine inclined and more feminine. Rinnala had to go and while she was no seductress, the woman recognized something in her. Just in time for Zevran to show up and promptly fall out of the window. With her guards taken out, Ferenna was unprotected. She’d made a deal.

A deal, that Rinna liked. A deal that would put her in line for the throne of Antiva. A deal involving Rosso Noche. She chose the deal, she chose Ferenna.

“ _I heard some gossip amongst the servants this morning._ ” Rinna swirled her glass of wine. The wyvern meat pushed away as she slanted her gaze across the garden, seeing a familiar black shadow weave his way through the staff. Zevran had been better at infiltration than them. If not for his tattoos she would not have known it was him. And even then, the elf could easily cover them.

“Oh?” Ferenna tipped her glass back, then she crooked her finger to call another glass be poured.

“ _Your conduct at the table. Seems there was a mess to clean up._ ”

Ferenna peered at her with bemusement. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“ _It’s not that I worry. You know as well as I, nothing ever truly stays in the Chateau._ ” Rinna set her glass down. “ _What if word go out that you-_ ”

“ _What? Had taste in some men?_ ” Ferenna drummed her fingers against the glass and shrugged. “ _Men are pretty and good for once or twice. But there is no passion there._ ”

“ _None?_ ”

“ _Correct._ ”

“ _And what of Zevran? Taliesen?_ ”

“ _I keep them because you desire them, my beautiful crow._ ” Ferenna slid closer to Rinna, a hand light on her cheek. “ _Never mistake my display of affection for others to mean I have moved on from you. I know you feel for them, so I care because I adore you._ ” She cooed and Rinna ducked her head down, cheeks red. “ _As red as the night._ ” Ferenna licked her lips before drinking Rinna in, her hand slid up her thigh to hold her hand.

Rinna returned the kiss. Soft and with the passion she had mentioned. There was something different between a kiss with a man and one with a woman. A kinship that ran deeper than comfort, a _sisterhood_. If she let it, it would cloud her judgement, cloud her devotion to Zevran and Taliesen, cloud everything they had worked toward just for one pretty face.

“Ferenna.” She moaned as she gripped the woman’s hands, halting her progress toward the dagger on her thigh. “ _Don’t mistake me for a fool._ ”

“ _Never._ ” Ferenna let go of her dagger, but pulled the younger woman closer as she gazed up into the black shadow, taunting him with how much she could make her red crow moan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Troll summary is troll. 
> 
> ANYWAY I was away, as you might have noticed for like a month and a half because of Mass Effect Andromeda. I got stuck in that hole for a long time. Absolutely could NOT write anything DA related until I got it out of my system. Unfortunately... it's not all the way out, as I now have 3 MEA fics. *sighs* but either way, I'm back to DA. Roaring to go. 
> 
> This chapter, I wanted to reveal a lot of things. First off, Lena's skin tone. I've covered it before but not in great length. Lena is a white passing POC. Due to her illnesses and several other factors her skin appears paler than it should be. The paler it gets, the more sick she is. And with the lyrium still in her system, it's gonna get much worse before it gets better. 
> 
> Another thing, in case you guys didn't realize. Ferenna is the princess Zevran was sent to assassinate as part of move to kill her brother, Azrin. I have headcanons about that, but this is how I'm introducing why Zevran believes Taliesen when he says she betrayed them. But will Rinna still die? Who knows. It's all decided from a dice roll.


	45. Chateau Haine, 3rd Night pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the third night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. With the Wyvern hunt over, the celebration continues. The atmosphere of the celebration begins to escalate.

“Well that was…” Lena straightened her skirt and dress, careful of the still bandaged dragonling bite. “Interesting.”

“Hmm yes it was.” Teagan purred as he groped her arse and dropped five sovereigns into her palm. “Perhaps tomorrow we can-”

“You’ll have to ask me tomorrow.” Lena patted his hand, slipping the sovereigns away.

“I’ll be sure to.” Teagan gave a wolfish grin before heading back to the Wyvern Hunt celebrations. He was one of the ones being honored and Lena had to go back to work, assuming any of the others had come back from their first trysts of the night. He sent her one final smirk before moving on.

Once Teagan was out of sight and earshot, she rolled her eyes.

“Oh yeah, totally **super** fun. 10 out of 10, would fuck again.” She muttered with a sarcastic air. Teagan was a disappointment, but what did she expect from a nobleman’s son who went gallivanting all his youth? He expected her to sing him praises throughout the entire affair. His performance and - ahem - ego wanned when she wasn’t egging him on and complimenting him. Talk about insecurity.  She had to fake her orgasm to get him to cum. If she’d let it go on any further, she’d have chafed.

One step out of the hallway and she stopped when a chuckle a little too close had her pause. Her head turned a fraction to the side. Lena had almost missed the figure waiting in the shadows, sitting on the windowsill behind the curtain. He stepped down, blonde hair golden in the light of the distant lit sconces. He dropped the curtain, a brief flash of dark tattoos on his face let Lena know exactly who this was. The only problem - she didn’t know why he was here.

“No woman should ever have to leave a bedchamber sounding _that_ sarcastic.”  His rich Antivan accent rolled out as he prowled toward her.

Lena’s danger meter and legs-turning-to-jelly meter were in conflict because having Zevran himself give you that look was both terrifying and _hot._ But as she’s learned, good looks do not guarantee a good time in bed.

“And you think you could do better?” Lena asked, aware of how close he was. _Daggers, don’t forget the daggers._ Lena was reminded of her less than stellar relationships with rogues in dark corners and daggers, so she was a little hyper aware of where Zevran’s hands were. One was propped on his hip, the other placed against the wall so he’d look down at her. Because even the short elf from Origins was taller than her. _Blasted dwarven height._ She fumed in her mind.

“Not to boast.” Zevran grinned whilst shrugging. “Yes.”

“Hmph.” She gave him a look over in order to appear to judge his claim - and also to ogle him when she couldn’t last night. He was without the mask he wore last night, instead he wore a simpler one that looked like the servants’ masks. It matched the servant clothes he donned. “Is there a reason why an Antivan Crow looks like a servant-” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her hand raised to stop him from answering. “You know what, no I don’t think I want to know.”

“I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

“I suspected you wouldn’t.” Lena retorted. “If you’ll excuse me.” She knew this was a bad idea, but she turned her back on Zevran to head back to the festivities and her job. For a moment, she thought she left him behind, but then he was next to her.

“Are you not curious of my claim?”

“Oh I am.” She added. “I’m just busy working right now.”

“Working? And yet I was proposing I hire you.” Zevran shrugged.

“Much as I’d like to, but fucking isn’t my only job at the moment.”

“Surely one more customer-”

“If I know my girls, some of them will be done with their first customer and I have to collect for the next round.” Lena explained. “And don’t call me Shirley.”  

Zevran’s lips twitched at her last sentence.  His head tilted in thought before smiling and moving on.  “A Madame that does as much work as her girls?”

“More or less.” Lena shrugged.

“I heard the Rose was owned by a… what is his name?” He tried to play dumb, snapping his fingers as though he couldn’t recall.

“Harlan?” Lena offered, unimpressed.

“Yes, Harlan!” He snapped again and pointed, a wide grin across his face. “A dastardly man, or so the rumors say.” Zevran shrugged.

“Uh huh.” Lena nodded, squinting at him. “Cut the shit, what do you want?”

“I want nothing but to gaze upon your perfectly plump-”

“Purple prose will get you nowhere.” Lena crossed her arms. She jutted her chin out, aligned her feet width with her shoulders and dropped the placating smile to what many back home called her _resting bitch face_. “You didn’t wait outside that door for me just to pay me compliments, so why are you following me?” She questioned but then remembered the arrangement. “Did Ferenna send you to fetch me?”

“Astute.” Zevran stepped around her. “But no. I’m merely curious.”

“Curious?” Lena squinted harder. “About what?”

“Your treatment.” He gestured to her shoulder, the dress had slipped and revealed a bit of the bandage. “You’re injured.”

“Pft. By own my fault. That’s what I get for grabbing a dragonling.” Lena shifted her dress up, covering the aforementioned injury. “Stupid thing bit me.” She sighed.  “Too bad we had to put it down.” If only she’d been thinking clearly at the time. Perhaps she could have kept it?  What’s another dangerous creature? She had spiders - why not dragons? It was the _Dragon_ Age after all. She snorted to herself.

“A dragon?” Zevran enunciated slowly, to be sure he heard correctly.

“Yeah - long story. Was that it?”

Zevran had questions - many questions but he had to slot those away for another time. Truly this dwarf was formidable if she grabbed a dragonling from it’s nest.  He wondered if the high dragon had been awake or asleep. Either answer prompted more questioning, but again he pushed it aside. “What about by your pimp?”

“My...pimp?” Lena squinted, unsure who Zevran meant.

“While you are a Madame - temporarily for this occasion.”

“No no.” She wagged her finger. “I am always a Madam _e_. What I am not is a madam. There **is** a difference.” Lena crossed her arms. Zevran’s smile was humoring.

“Of course. But that aside, you are still a jinetera. And I know what they say about Lord La Foix’s...” Zevran’s eyes tracked over her injury with a heavy judgement. “...treatment, both professional and personal.”

Selena met Zevran’s concerned gaze, a candle going on in her head as she connected the logic. Zevran, raised in a brothel Zevran, was worried about her safety because he knew how the women (and men) could sometimes be treated. And Harlan had a reputation.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern, Zevran, but I have no problems defending myself.”  They had stopped short of re-entering the garden and she looked in toward Faith and Denier. “I have my doubts about my fellows sometimes.” Largely Harlan had little to do with the daily going ons of the Rose.  “But for the most part we’re safe but his partner…” Lena stopped herself - thinking of how often she saw Lusine covered up or makeup caked on like she was hiding something. “I have my suspicions about that.”

“I see.” Zevran nodded. He hadn’t asked about them. He knew they were fine but word around the servants, Selena was new. While she projected an air of confidence, he saw her falter. The look she unconsciously sent around her as though searching for danger before stepping into the viper’s nest anyway. Admirable that her immediate thought was her fellow whores and not of herself. Zevran had a soft spot for people like her. He remembered the women of the whorehouse he’d been raised in having a similar behavior. Protective of their own but always kept a facade of bravery and confidence.

“I didn’t ask about them.” Zevran smiled, eyes twinkling,

“Well I’ll tell you one thing for sure. **I’m** fine.” It sounded too defensive but too late to correct herself.

“I hope so. It would be a shame to see such a lovely creature covered in bruises.” Zevran added and walked around her.

“What if I like to be bruised?” Lena quipped and that made Zevran’s eye’s light up.

“Oh then I’m sure **we** can oblige.” Zevran licked his lips, bending down to whisper to her. Lena tensed a second too late.  “If you wish it,” he licked her ear, before pressing a soft if chaste kiss on her pressure point.  

“Uh…” Lena stilled, tongue dry as Zevran chuckled.

“Problem?”

“No-” She squeaked and coughed to cover up her cheeks warming. Zevran cackled, head thrown back before entering the garden ahead of her.  Lena took a moment to control her breathing, side eyeing Zevran and eye-fucking him with every step he took.

Once in the garden, she caught the eye of Athenril who held her bag out to her when she approached.

“That was quick.” Athenril commented and gave a harsh look at Zevran. Her hackles raised as she touched her side where her dagger lay hidden and sheathed.

“Ah-ah.” Zevran wagged his finger, before tapping his mask.

Athenril hissed, aware of the other servants now looking her way. She lowered her hand, and assumed a casual position. At no point did she lower her guard. It was firmly still up and ready to react should the crow make any sudden movements.

Lena caught Denier approaching with a pep in his step.

“Denier?” Lena pulled her book out and pencil, quickly writing down the names of the two twins waiting for Denier.

“Don’t wait up for me. Two for one platter with **all** the fixings.” Denier smirked as he dropped the heavy purse in her palm. She counted it out quickly.

“Denier, that’s triple the price _._ ” She hissed.

“I want to win that bet.” Denier smirked. “Especially now that you’re in it.”

“It’s shady business.” Lena prodded his chest.

“What? Can’t handle a little competition, sis?”

“Oooh.” Lena glowered, but dropped the amount away and wrote it down. He snickered as he went off to the ladies, Prudence not far as she watched him disappear into a room.

Nobles and rich merchants milled about with a few adventuring types. She did spot the Fishers Bleeders but Iron Bull was nowhere near. She kept a lookout for familiar faces. Sebastian and Nathaniel were separate, the later was dancing with an elven girl. Cailan was speaking with Duncan, or more accurately Duncan was trying to draw Cailan to a corner table. Anora was being swept around the dance floor by Prosper. Fifi de Launcet danced with a masked fellow decorated with three gold stripes and two red. Lena also recognized Bran Cavin amidst the dancers but she couldn’t get a look at his partner. Off to another side was LaVish, glowering from a corner at the throng of celebrating people.

The music playing was quaint, tinkling from a balcony so all could hear it from below. Lena gazed up at the quartet, but she couldn’t see any of their faces. All of them wore white masks and pristine white clothing.

With a low excuse me, Zevran slipped away from her side to disappear into the crowd

Her gaze turned back to the dancing crowd as she perched in her corner with Athenril, remembering every party she’d ever been to back home as a teenager. The music would play, and she wouldn’t be asked to dance. Instead she sat back, watching everyone else fumble or show off, watching the drama of the floor as men and women alike used the politics of the body to get what they want.  Sneaky despicable men got their hands on inappropriate places, laughing it off as a mistake but the smirk was always the same - just like she saw Rendon with a petite elven woman, whose lips were pressed tight.  Cutthroat women used the dance to throw it in the faces of their rivals in love.

Lena spotted a woman with an older gentleman sweeping across the floor, but occasionally the woman would look toward another. A smile spread across her lips. But she couldn’t quite see the expression of her eyes.

It wouldn’t matter, she could guess what it was. Snarky, conniving, and - the music stopped. Lena watched the woman pull away from her dancing partner. They gave what appeared to be a subdued kiss to each other but their body language suggested otherwise. They were angled complementary to each other, shifted closer as though barely containing their passion. Then they turned toward the woman the elder one had been glancing at.

Sputtering, Lena spotted horns. No not horns a double coned henin in the shape of horns and a mask. Though her dress was nothing like how Lena expected, there was no denying the style of hat she wore and the presence she commanded - especially as she met the lady and gentleman.

Madame de Fer gave a pleased kiss to both the man and the woman before being pulled onto the dance floor. Not by the man - who Lena guessed was Duke Bastien - but by the woman.

“Shut the front door.” Lena muttered as she watched the two tender-eyed women danced. “Who is that?” She watched, transfixed by the ever poised Vivienne flirting with a woman. Recalling all the times she’d had her inquisitor flirt with her and only getting a polite - if warm - rejection. It made her jealous of this woman.

Athenril looked down at her, but glanced at the dancing pair. “Some Orlesians.”

“They are not just _some_ Orlesians. That is Madame de Fer, Court Enchanter to Empress Celene and-” She stopped and considered her words carefully next in case she could hear. “And I’ve heard rumors of her. Amazing rumors. She’s the lover of Duke Bastien de Ghislain.”

“I don’t follow Orlesian gossip.” Athenril shrugged. “If you knew who she was why ask?”

“I know who **she** is. I just don’t know who the other woman is.” Lena’s fingers itched. Was there mention of this in the lore - anywhere? She desperately wanted to get back to her room to find out. The temptation of spending hours reading on her ipad was almost impossible to quell but she managed.

For another song the two women danced, closer and more intimate. Hands strayed too close to their bosoms as they turned, trailing over their hips and Vivienne dipped the other woman down before righting her. It was eloquent, sensual, and entirely polite with hints of the intimacy between them.

Selena couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t meant to watch it at all. It was private, even though they were doing it publicly. The intense intimacy between them made her uncomfortable and she averted her gaze. They were not there to put a show on, they were enjoying each other’s company.

Unfortunately the song ended as trays of cooked meat were carried out by servants, followed by trays of flute glasses filled with some sort of sparkling wine. Lena didn’t see them until Zevran returned with another servant, this one a human.  

The wine was a clear sparkling sort with a few drops of orichalcum glinting in the flute glasses amongst the bubbles. The orichalcum floated in the liquid, suspended and occasionally drifting up and down as the silvery drop got smaller and bubbles formed around it as it dissolved.

Duke Prosper rang a small tiny bell, calling the entire garden’s attention to him.  The lull of chatter slowed as people tuned in.

“Mes amies!” Prosper began, quickly followed by a slew of Orlesian that Lena could not understand. There was some light polite laughter of agreement before he switched to Trade Tongue. “I know there are some who don’t speak Orlesian quite so well.”  His smug grin met Cailan’s appreciative and goofy smile.

“As you will note, we have a freshly slain wyvern for our feast tonight. We have our victors of the Wyvern Hunt to thank for.” Prosper gestured towards Cailan, Anora, Teagan, and Nathaniel. The clapping was not overzealous. The King of Ferelden however looked beyond pleased, his hand wrapped around Anora’s waist and bringing her forward. Servants with plates of meat began offering them to the guests.

Zevran’s human friend gave a plate to Lena and Athenril.  The meat looked like it had been grilled to medium rare. Lena wasn’t fond of medium rare but it wasn’t bloody. The outside portions were a bit scaley.  Had they cooked the wyvern meat with the scales still attached? Lena was baffled by it, until she saw the purpose was to allow people to eat it by hand. The scales were cool to the touch, yet the meat was still steaming warm.

“Huh...fingerfoods.” Lena smiled as she picked up one morsel and ripped the meat off the scaly skin to eat. It was gamey and chewy and while she had to work at chewing it, it felt immensely nourishing.

“It was truly a test of skill, Prosper.” Cailan spoke with a laugh, drawing Lena’s attention to the exchange.

“That it is, my friend. Every year our victors slay a wyvern and we here at the Chateau feast on it for it’s strength. But also the venom in it’s glands is collected and added to our personal stores to create aquae lucidus.

Here the flute glasses were handed out. Lena eyed the glass, noting how small the orichalcum drop was now. Athenril however grabbed the flute glass from her and set it back on the tray.

“Hey!” Lena pouted.

“Serendipity and Denier said you shouldn’t drink that.” Athenril reminded and Lena rolled her eyes.

“Oh waah, fine.” Lena sighed even though her curiosity was high. What would wine with hallucinatory effects be like? It was made from the venom, how would that taste? She set the thought aside.

“Yet tonight we have a special addition to our meal.”  Prosper made a spinning hand gesture and servants came out with larger plates with slabs of meat.  

“Where our victors not only took on the elusive wyvern and slew it, but as a warm up, they took on a High Dragon!” There were shocked gasps and the clapping was louder. “Do please tell us how you took on such a dangerous beast?”

“My Uncle should tell the tale, he is best.” Cailan brought Teagan forward who began setting the scene to the crowd who sipped at their wine, or nibbled on the wyvern meat.

“There we were, up the mountain. It took a few hours to find its nest, but once we did, we could hear it. We stayed out of it’s sight as we observed it’s movements. Very important for dragon hunting.” Teagan was enthusiastic about telling the crowd. “Cailan led the charge, and we supported him. With a war cry, he charged swinging his sword.”

“Such foolishness!” A guest muttered loud enough.

“I know, I thought so too.”

“Uncle.”

“It was very foolish, Cailan but you offered us the chance to position ourselves more strategically.”  Teagen gestured. “The dragon was so focused on Cailan, it didn’t see us spread around it. Nathaniel dodged under its wings.  Anora went for it’s back legs and I for its tail. It wasn’t enough mind you, all four of us attacking from different directions, especially when its tail struck me.  I lost my sword and Nathaniel became trapped under it’s claw. For all I could tell, it would best us then and there.  Until Selena and I managed to strike it with a few rocks to distract it right on it’s nose.” He gave a half-hearted gesture toward Lena at her name and continued on.

It was however too much of an indication of someone else because Lena froze when a few nobles turned their sights on her, curious. Inquisitive whispers rose at the sight of sickly dwarf having “assisted” in a dragon fight.

“We drew it’s attentions enough, tracking around it’s nest. It would aim its fiery breath at us time and again. But it was enough for Cailan to roll underneath it whilst it was distracted and thrust up into the belly of the beast. Metal skewering it as it’s innards spilled onto him, yet the beast reared and became frantic. It roared and tried to sweep Cailan out from under. Too focused on the sword in it’s belly it failed to see Anora swing her sword at it’s neck - once - twice!” Teagan punctuated each slice with a sweep of his hand. The crowd was vested in the tale. “Dead. Between them both, they dealt the killing blows to the dragon.”

A roaring applause sounded as dragon steak was served. Lena ate four servings in quick succession as some pairs of eyes lingered still after the rest of the highly exaggerated story. Thankfully her mention in it was small - tiny compared to Cailan and Anora’s.

“My my, are you that famished?” Zevran’s voice purred. “Was that as exhilarating to do as it was to hear? Fighting a high dragon, you must be quite skilled in combat.”

“Ha...hardly.” Lena said around another dragon steak morsel. She grabbed two more off Zevran’s friend’s serving tray.

“Wish I’d been there.” Athenril muttered.

“I guarantee you, it was not as glorious as Teagan made it sound.” Lena grabbed the other bits of food on the serving platter. Some sort of leafy green and fruits to match up against the dragon steak. But it didn’t taste quite so well as the steak, so she ate a few more bits of dragon steak.  “They were covered in mud. Nathaniel was trapped, Anora could barely dodge, and Cailan was stuck in one position. Teagan was trying to distract them and he failed. I came in and good news turns out my aim isn’t shit. Bad news, dragons breathe fire at very long distances.” She sighed.

“But you lived.” Zevran added.

“Listen, for as long as I live, I never - _never_ want to fight a dragon ever again.” Lena grumbled. “You’ll be lucky to drag me out of Kirkwall after this week.” She grabbed a flute glass - only for Athenril to take it away. “Oh come on really?”

“You heard Dip. Not with as injured and sick as you are.” Athenril smirked. “And I am here to protect you, remember.”

“But it’s the only thing to drink!” Lena whined.

Zevran chuckled. “I shall fetch you some ale.”

Lena groaned, yet snatched more dragon steak off a passing platter. “At least this is good.” She chewed on it. “Better than the wyvern steak.”

“Also more potent. But at least it has no hallucinatory effects.” Athenril shrugged.

“Potent?” Lena squinted.

“Gets the blood pumping.” Athenril noted. “The girls will be a little more vulnerable.”

“What do you mean?”

“The guests will be far more aggressive than they would have with just the wyvern meat and wine. The orichalcum is the aphrodisiac and the wyvern meat works as a virility enhancer. It is why so many nobles come to the Wyvern Hunt, not to participate in the Hunt but to partake in the benefits.” Athenril’s gaze flitted across the crowd as the music began again and dancing took up, though there was a certain frenetic energy - an anticipatory aura amongst the crowd. “The dragon meat is a huge boone. Strength, stamina, and an almost unrelenting thirst and hunger for flesh - mixed with the prior two ingredients.”

“Holy shit.” Lena gasped. “Even with the power of suggestion that’s a heady combination.”

“Power of suggestion? This...” Athenril gestured to the nobles. “This is magical suggestion.”  

Selena stared at the dragon and wyvern steak kebabs, then at the crowds. She knew what dragon blood could do already. Reavers. The Theirin line. Archdemon blood. Grey Wardens. Her gaze turned toward Duncan who hovered very close to Anora, protective as he looked around the room. His posture stiff and tight.

“Shit.”

“Indeed.” Athenril sighed. Her feet shifted as she looked toward the servants.

“And you're letting me eat this?” Lena squinted at Athenril.

“It's brought color back into your cheeks.” The elven coterie shrugged. At Lena’s incredulous expression she continued. “When I first met you, you were quite tan. After the explosion...” Athenril shifted guilty. “You have been pale and sickly, even more so after that bite.”

“Huh…” Lena frowned. “So what you’re saying is...I look like shit?”

Athenril snorted. “No. Pasty and ghastly, but not like shit.” Athenril’s lips twitched. “You're much too light skinned to be compared to that.”

“You know bird poop is white.” Lena offered.

“Then I stand corrected.” Athenril snickered. “You do look like shit.”

Lena snickered back but accepted it. Athenril’s observations however, dulled the humor. According to Athenril she was paler since the explosion. Whiter since she ingested all that lyrium. She didn’t like the implication of that, didn’t like what it could mean.

Her hand trailed over her neck, checking to see if her thyroid was swelling again. With no sign of a goiter, she turned her attentions back to the gala.

Unlike frat parties Lena had gone to where the introduction of even just a little beer made people lose themselves - even when it was nonalcoholic. In fact from what she could see this was like wine connoisseurs relishing in the taste and texture as they let the wine roll through them. A stifling heat rose that prompted some women to loosen their bodice and men lost their jackets.

A distant shriek had Lena looking for the source but all she saw was an elven girl pressed against a low garden wall with a nobleman between her legs - in complete full view of everyone.

People danced far closer than they had before to the music - which had become slower and drawn out. The few masks worn were propped up, allowing nobles to enjoy the feast with gusto - and she wasn’t talking about the meat.

“Lena.”

Snapped out of watching the revelry, she faced Faith who slipped her coin. A name was whispered to her but Lena couldn’t quite make it out as she continued to chew the dragon kebabs.

“I have another customer.” Faith explained and Lena nodded. “You should really stop eating that.” She gestured to the kebabs.

“I haven’t had this much meat since Varric wanted the Happy Ending special for breakfast.” Lena explained.

“Oh...well. Hmm.” Faith giggled. “I’ll be sure to mention that later.”

“Huh?”

“When you aren’t under the influence of dragon meat.”

“If I can’t have the wine, then I’m damn well going to eat as much as I can. Besides its a magical aphrodisiac it won't affect me. I'm a dwarf!” She smirked. Lena wrote Faith’s customer’s name down and slotted the coin away.

A new dance began that called everyone’s attentions. The tones were sensual and slow at first - but aggressive. It was a tango. Skirts raised showing off petticoats and flashes of bare thigh. If she had a guess, someone was having sex on the dance floor. She didn’t expect that sort of decorum amongst nobles.

“Pleasure palace.” Athenril reminded at her questioning look. “They get away with it here, and no one talks about it out there.”

“Like freaking Paradise, Vegas.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing, uhhh place like this where I’m from. But there’s gambling too. A lot of it, and dancing girls.” Lena sighed, shoving more meat into her mouth. Serendipity slipped by.  Coins exchanged and she watched as in one hour she was taken away by Teagen and then Goran Vael.  “I’d say she worked fast but Teagan doesn’t take very long.” Lena joked.

“Hm-hmm.” Athenril nodded.

The night carried on and while people began to drop off, the whores were the ones with the most attention. Technically Lena could have taken another customer between the long stretches of time but she didn’t feel up to it after the dry reception with Teagan. A break was needed.

Faith stopped by twice more. The second time, Prudence was nowhere as well after having escorted Denier and Serendipity to another room with a noble couple, so Lena sent Athenril with her for protection. Adriano was still nowhere to be seen.

Alone, Lena huffed whilst moving around the garden and guests. There was less platters of food and Zevran had never returned with ale, so she was sucking on a grape. Her throat was dry from all the meat. Not that she wouldn’t mind some more wyvern meat, but a drink would be better.

Most of the flute glasses on ledges, tables, and platters were empty or halfway drank, and Lena crinkled her nose at the idea of some stranger’s backwash. She spotted one glass that appeared mostly untouched on a table and headed right for it. It was the wyvern wine, with no sign of the orichalcum drop in it but given how much time had passed it was likely completely dissolved. However a hand grasped the glass and brought it to a pair of perfect lips. Lena stilled upon seeing Madame de Fer.

“Bastien, dear. We should retire for the evening, do you not think so Nicholine?”

“I do, mon coeur.” The woman spoke softly as she led the inebriated Duke away.  Vivienne led the way, the train of her dress trailed over the ground, yet never became dirtied - even after the whole night. “Vivienne, do join us in bed tonight.”

“Of course.” Their light chatter was polite but their tones were warm. “May I help you?” Vivienne stared at Lena, who had begun following them.

 _Damn my eavesdropping self._ She stilled when the Iron Lady’s gaze pinned her in place.

“Uh no. Nope. Just looking for someone.”

Vivienne gave her a scrutinizing once over. The sort of look over you expected from a high class sort seeing the dirt on their shoe as though it offended them. With no word she carried on, and never looked back at Lena. The Duke and Duchess hadn’t even looked back at her but at Vivienne. Like Lena wasn’t worth their attention.

Once Vivienne was out of earshot, Lena sighed. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or turned on. Having Vivienne’s gaze centered right on her was exhilarating and then to be so easily dismissed. If she’d had a dick, she’d have to adjust her pants but she wasn’t so she shifted her breast band through her dress to hide the only other sign of her arousal.  

She’d meant to head toward the center of the garden but a moan drew her attention. She could have ignored it if it wasn’t followed by a hiss of pain.

“Messere, please I have to attend to the plates.”

“That can wait.” They groaned.

“Messere, uh… please.”

“Please what?” Fabric ripped and a low chuckle had Lena’s brows raise. “What interesting smalls.”

“Messere!” She gasped and hissed. The clap of skin against skin had Lena peer around the corner into the hallway, where curtains were drawn to give them privacy but she could make out the two shapes conjoined.

“Please. What?” He asked, this time voice clear and familiar.

“Nathaniel?” Lena asked, only remembering after to lower her voice.

Another gasp, the struggle of two bodies and the curtain opened in their haste - in _his_ haste. Lena watched as the elven servant was quick to gather her torn smalls and run away but Nathaniel was tucking himself in.

“Uh... “

“Don’t tell Sebastian.” Nathaniel blurted out, the pupils of his eyes wide. But he didn’t look like a shred of guilt was ever touching him then.

“Why would telling Sebastian be an issue?”

Nathaniel’s lips parted, realizing his error. He should have acted like nothing was wrong but instead, instead he felt guilty.

“Far as I’m concerned, you’re not with anyone. Are you not?” Lena crossed her arms.

“No, but.”

“Unless you’re worried Sebastian might get jealous. Or maybe…” Lena grinned. “Maybe you’re hoping he _will_ get jealous.”

“That’s not!” Nathaniel growled, but his cheeks reddened.

“I’m just fucking with you.” Lena snickered. “Next time though, maybe you should ask the pretty servant girl if she wants to have a bit of fun.”  She passed by him.

“That’s what she’s there for.” Nathaniel sighed. “But now she’s gone.”

“She ran away real fast. You must have been doing something she didn’t like.”

“Or you scared her away.” Nathaniel accused. “Speaking of, are you going to take her place then?” He followed after Lena.

“Pssh. No. I am looking for something to drink.”

“I have plenty of liquids for you-”

“Do. Not. Finish that sentence.” Lena made a disgusted noise.

“Why are you-” Nathaniel took a second too long to figure out why she wrinkled her nose. “No not that!”

“You sure? Because that’s another liquid. I know people who are into that.”

“Piss? Really?” Nathaniel asked, aghast.

“Oh yeah. There’s a fetish for everything.” Lena muttered. “Where are all the drinks? Feels like my throat is bone dry.”

“I do believe Cailan might have a flagon of ale.” Nathaniel gestured toward the table Cailan was sat at with Duncan and Prosper. A flagon sat in the middle surrounded by goblets.

“Thank you!” She said and took off. Forgetting social rank, etiquette, and manners, she grabbed one of the goblets and dragged the flagon so she could lift it. They looked shocked at her abrupt intrusion. “Sorry, I’m just so thirsty.” She explained - panting. Prosper chuckled at the proclamation.

She lifted the flagon only for what little was left to splash over the rim and onto the table. It almost wet the slew of papers across it. “Fuck, are you kidding me?” She whispered at the flagon, a whine in the back of her throat.

“Pardon me, Madame.” Prosper was quick to rise and gesture for a servant. They rushed to the table and he grabbed the flute glass on their tray and held it to her. “Perhaps this might sate your thirst?”

“Yes!” Lena grabbed it and a second too late she noticed the orichalcum fizzing. _Shouldn't be drinking this._ Shrugging off the thought, she drank it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter was going to be longer. Now when I say longer, I don't mean a few thousand more words, I mean double the current length. Roughly, 11k+ words. And that's... really fucking long lemme tell you. So I split it. Now I had to PICK a spot to cut the chapter in half, so it wasn't a planned cliffhanger but it was a somewhat decent one. 
> 
> Anyway hope you enjoyed this chapter. A lot of setting up is taking place. Feels so slow on my end because it's taking forever to get it just right for future arcs and plots. Also doesn't help that I am a lazy sack of shit who didn't update for two months. ANYWAY please enjoy!


	46. Chateau Haine, 3rd Night pt3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part three of the third night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. With the Wyvern hunt over, the celebration continues. Lena engaged in some interesting political and wartime discussions with the visiting foreign regent and Grey Warden.

The aphrodisiac fruits and orichalcum hadn’t worked last night and they would not work now. Selena would not succumb to the power of suggestion.  Even if the steaks were magical, she was a dwarf and had a natural immunity to magic. Right?

She did feel a bit hot under the collar, she blamed it on the lack of drink and all the running around to find something to drink. “Ahh, thank you.” She had downed the entire glass of sparkling wyvern venom wine.

“Perhaps another?” Prosper handed her another glass. She took it but this time sipped, savoring the taste now. It was tangy and bitter. It bloomed into a cheek warming sweetness that almost made her teethache.

“Woah…” she eyed the glass and looked up. She was aware of the entire table staring at her. “Thank you. Sorry for intruding. I'll just go now-”

“Nonsense. Please sit. I understand you were present when the darkspawn appeared?” Prosper questioned as he held a chair out for her.

“Um, yes.”

“Well that is very concerning. I would like to hear your account on the matter. If there are darkspawn raids in the area - as I’ve discussed with Duncan - it would be best to have a permanent Grey Warden guard nearby.” Prosper explained.

“Oh. Yeah, you right. That makes sense.” Lena nodded. In truth, she wanted nothing to do with this conversation. Just thinking about darkspawn with their lipless grins and dark cavernous gazes made her sweat. The had pushed her down and tried to gag her. She could have been a broodmother by now if Duncan hadn’t been there. Her skin became grayish at the thought.

“Perhaps, Madame Lena is a bit harrowed with her experience of darkspawn.” Anora spoke in her defense. “Going through such an ordeal. Let us not force her to go through it again.” The Queen of Ferelden sent her a sympathetic look.

Lena had never liked Anora in the games. She’d thought of her as bitchy and - if she was being realistic - she took to heart the betrayal that led to her Warden being stuck in Fort Drakon. But here, now, the woman wasn’t that bad. Badass for sure, but she was kind and warm.

“Thank you.”

“If there is a rise in darkspawn raids in Ferelden and in the Marches, we need to be prepared.” Prosper spoke to Duncan, ignoring Anora’s words. “Chateau Haine still has it’s defenses but the best military tactician is one that is prepared.”

“You’re a soldier?” Lena couldn’t help herself. Prosper sent her a withering glance.

“Former Chevalier. I am a Patron of the arts. But make no mistake I can recognize weaknesses even in myself.” He boasted. “If you know those, then you can strengthen them.”

“A fair point.” Cailan entered the conversation.

“How odd to hear from a Duke known for his lavish and extravagant parties.” Lena squinted. She didn’t remember any military experience from Prosper. But how else would he have learned to fight so well, and train and ride a wyvern?

“What I am known for is one matter. But what I am skilled in, is another.” Prosper gave a smile, his beard lifted as he winked.

“Do you perchance know which direction the darkspawn came from?” Cailan asked.

“They came from the south, your majesty.” Duncan said. “I was tracking them.”

“But you could have lost the trail.” Cailan said. “You were gone for almost a full day.”

“Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn.” Lena added. “It would have been hard for Duncan to have lost the trail. Only way that could have happened is if they got far enough, and like people darkspawn leave behind tracks or a trail of blood or scratch marks.”

Duncan’s brows rose.

“Really?” Cailan awed.

“Oh yeah.” Lena sipped at the wine.  “So unless you’re saying he’s a bad tracker, I doubt he would have lost the trail.”

“Be that as it may, there are darkspawn in the woods and mountains around Chateau Haine. I need to be sure that it will be secure.” Prosper piped up, though he gave a cursory look at Lena.

“Perhaps it would be more secure with less galas.” Anora offered.

Prosper laughed, but when it was clear Anora wasn’t joking he gave a placating smile. “Appearances must be made as part of the Grand Game. It's all political you see. Necessary to get things done.”

“We don’t have the Grand Game in Ferelden. We speak openly about what needs to be done.” Anora gave her own placating smile. “Orlesians have all this _tourner autour du pot._ ”

Prosper bristled.

“Duke Prosper, your concern is well placed. I will send word to the Constable of the Marches about additional patrols. What with the rise in Ferelden, it would not hurt to be prepared.” Duncan spoke to keep the peace.

“Thank you, Duncan.” Prosper angled his head in appreciation. “If you’ll excuse me.”

The table was quiet as Prosper went to greet Lord Mantillion who drank more wine. Once he was engaged in conversations, Cailan drew Lena’s attention.

“How did you learn so much about Grey Wardens?” Cailan poised the question.

“Cailan, she’s a dwarf. Where we only see darkspawn during blights, Orzammar deals with them always. I imagine they might have shared much with the Grey Wardens as a consequence of their shared goal.” Anora chided her husband.

“Er...yes. That’s right.” Lena agreed and downed her wine to avoid having to comment.

“Is your family in the warrior caste?” Duncan asked.

“What?” Lena gulped. “Uh, no we’re-” What had she told Varric? “Artisan. We make things. Like craftsmen.”

“You create art?”

“Sometimes. Other times we embellish or we’re outright smiths of our own. But once exiled, most of us went our own ways in terms of what we did.” Lena explained. “They were ascendant.”

“Ascendant?” Anora queried.

“Means we didn’t think our caste below should affect what we are on the surface.” Lena shrugged.

“How did you come into so much knowledge about darkspawn then?” Duncan questioned, collecting the parchments into one pile.

Lena took a cursory look at one of pages in search of _any_ other topic. “I read a lot. Was a writer once upon a time. Hey are those battle formations?” She touched the paper, trying to pull it back.

“Suggestions from Prosper during his more adventurous days.” Duncan explained. “Much of these are known Orlesian tactics.” Duncan slotted them away.

“Hm. No wonder they lost to Ferelden during the rebellion.” Lena muttered.

“Oh?” Cailan perked up.  “How so?”

“They split their army. Divide and conquer doesn't work against a united rebellion.” She pointed at one formation that had the armies split across the kingdom. “They expect that split forces when the rebellion attacks on different fronts but it's organized. Rebellions are insanely organized at times and the Ferelden one- top notch. But anyway divide and conquer is how I always lost to Gandhi - er against my brother in a war game.” Lena recovered. “The Battle of River Dane was largely won by uh…” Lena fumbled over her words but looked at Anora. “Your father, actually.”

“Yes, though they had help with a dwarven regiment.”

Lena blinked. Had there been?

“Nalthur?”

“Oh! Yes sorry. Human history is more interesting than dwarven, especially when all my schooling was all about dwarf history. But uh Nalthur, decent leader if a bit detached from his people.” Lena muttered. “Or so I’ve read.”

“How do you mean?”

“During a famine crisis in Orzammar, with a shortage of meat he supposedly responded with ‘Let them eat steak’ as though that would solve anything.” Lena bullshit right through her teeth recalling the mug’s little epithet.

“Maker! How dreadful!” Anora gasped.

“Yeaaah.” _Change the subject._ “But anyway, Divide and conquer would never work against a darkspawn horde.” She turned fully into the table, she pulled her pen from her bag.  “Do you mind?” She asked Duncan.

“By all means.” He sounded amused, and peered over her shoulder.

“Splitting up an army is pretty shitty unless you know for sure their numbers and that they are stationary.” She grabbed one of the goblets. “The horde of darkspawn is ink, moisture is the army.” Using her fingers she moistened her fingers and dabbed the parchment. She watched it spread momentarily and then stopped, she did the same at a second location. “If the enemy is stationary, Divide and Conquer would work but darkspawn don't work like that. They spread, bringing the taint with it.  So you take one army here.” She pointed with her dry finger at the army position. “And another here. But darkspawn could pop up anywhere.” She gestured the entire paper. “So let’s say they start here but next thing you know, they are here too coming for the army from another direction.” She dabbed the pen at another spot and drew as fine a line as she could.

“And because they come from underground their numbers increase over time.” Duncan added to her explanation. 

She beamed and added more ink, the line becoming thicker as it spread and then touched the wet spot.

“But as the army is split here and here. The darkspawn will target one and overwhelm it, all the while the other group darkspawn will keep the other half of the army busy. Or worse, separated from the other army and preventing them from giving aid or support.” Duncan took over explanations for a moment as Lena dabbed at the wet spots and it spread but the ink was in the way and the ink spread. Ale and ink swirled and the black spread further across the parchment.

“Eventually the other army ends up collapsed as well. Or so decimated they have no chance of recovery.” She added more dabs of moisture leading away from the mess. “But the darkspawn will increase their numbers over time. Unless…” she looked around and grabbed a half drank wine glass.

“You meet them full force and control the battlefield.” Duncan tilted his head.

“Right!” Lena smiled. Duncan grabbed the quill, and goblet and drew with his own finger.

“Create a barrier, and a chokehold as they come for the fortress.  As they come, even if they outnumber us, we control how many we interact with, how many we deal with until they dwindle down.” He drew a wet square with circles, a thin line of ink coming in and the ale overwhelmed the ink.

“That’s why a fortress against a raid would be best.” Anora had risen from her seat and moved closer, Cailan only a moment later following her example. “It would help if you could track the darkspawn to where they emerge from.” Anora asked.

“The Grey Wardens are aware of most entry points from the deep roads.” Duncan added when Lena went to speak he stilled her. “The problem is there are many and we haven't the numbers or resources to do it ourselves.”

“Hmm.” Lena frowned.

“That is where the Ferelden Army comes in.” Cailan looked like he finally got it. His brow furrowed as he eyed the ink covered parchment.

“Exactly your majesty.” Duncan released a low sigh and sent Lena and Anora an appreciative glance right until the former opened her mouth again.

“But this tactic only works if they are a mindless horde. And the darkspawn aren’t always like that.” Lena explained. She should have kept her mouth shut, especially with Duncan shooting her daggers with his glare. She gave an apologetic smile but Cailan was frowning.

“How do you mean?”

“If it’s a raid, they will be a mindless. But four times in history, it wasn’t.” Lena cringed.

“Are you suggesting?” Anora paled.

“A Blight?” Cailan asked, voice raised high.

“Your majesty.” Duncan shushed, looking around them.

“Duncan, you didn’t say this was a Blight!” Cailan gasped.

“The Grey Wardens think it _may_ be a Blight.”

“It has been over four hundred years since the last Blight.” Anora spoke low and harsh. “How can you be certain?”

“We aren’t. But it is a high possibility.” Duncan sighed.

“Possibility? You cannot expect us to make a decision on just an assurance-”

“Anora.” Cailan rose to his full height, hand stretched in a placating manner. “How certain of this are you?”

“It is difficult to say, your majesty.”

“How certain?” Cailan’s brows furrowed.

“Thus far...” Duncan took a heavy intake of breath before answering. “All early signs of a Blight have been met.” Duncan was grave as he responded.

Cailan nodded, stepped away from the table and paced in place. His head nodded.

Lena watched all this with curiosity. She expected Cailan to be more laissez-faire given his portrayal in Origins but he looked troubled. Was he taking it as seriously as he should?

“We will begin preparations when we return to Ferelden.” Cailan turned to the table.

“Truly?” Duncan asked.

“Yes, and like the Blights of old our best will fight alongside the Grey Wardens. It would be an honor-” Cailan smiled then. “-to ride into battle with you, Duncan.”

There it was, Cailan’s childishness. Lena fought back the cringe that almost overtook her face.

“So then, what more can you tell us about darkspawn.” Cailan asked.

At first Lena thought he was asking Duncan, you know the _grey warden._ But when all eyes fell on her, she gaped.

“Me?” At Cailan’s nod, she sputtered. “B-but I’m… look I‘m only booksmart about darkspawn.” She fumbled over an explanation.

“Scholars are exactly what we will need to prepare. Those skilled in battle are easy to train, but tactics of old against darkspawn, we will need. People like you.” Anora spoke.

“And I’m sure you can find someone much more qualified than me in the Grey Wardens. You know someone with practical knowledge and experience about darkspawn.” Lena gestured at Duncan. “Those darkspawn today were _literally_ the first darkspawn I have ever encountered - personally and in the flesh. Other than that, books, discussions, and diagrams. Believe me, you’ll need someone else.” Lena heaved, panicking. Her and her big mouth.

“Then you’ll be our starting point.” Anora smiled. “If you don’t mind of course.”

With a whine in the back of her throat, she nodded. “You do realize you’re asking a Prostitute for help with this. Is that not an issue?”

“Whores and prostitutes have long been aids during times of war and strife, including the Blights. Many prostitutes were recruited into the Wardens during the Fourth Blight.”

“Pfft, Bet it had to do with Garahel being a horn-” Lena coughed into her hand at Duncan’s amused smirk that confirmed her suspicions. “Ahem, nevermind. Right well, where do you want to start?”  

“If it is a blight, what difference would there be in a horde?” Anora was the one to ask, eyes calculating.

Lena looked at Duncan. “I am no scholar.” He seemed curious in the answer.

“Well, for starters. If it’s not a mindless horde. You have to identify the squadrons of darkspawn, their squad leaders, and the formations.” Lena recalled the Darkspawn Chronicles and how the Vanguard’s unit worked.

“Usually the squads are consisted of a Vanguard who has its thralls - or underlings. A handful of genlocks and hurlocks. One ogre maybe an emissary or shriek.” How detailed should she get?

“Ogres?” Cailan asked.

“Ogres are basically the tank-uh _battering rams._ ” Lena tapped her tongue against her cheek. “Emissary are darkspawn mages, and shrieks….I don’t like shrieks. But those are the main types. Then you have the ranks between them.”

“Ranks?” Cailan asked, now intrigued.

“Well if the darkspawn aren’t a mindless horde anymore, you didn’t think they’d be wild right? They are _people_ shaped. You have to assume they have some thought, society, and social hierarchy. So it’s natural to assume they have ranks.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” Cailan muttered. “And you think they are intelligent enough to form these ranks?”

“Well duh. That’s why they are smart enough to go after women.” Lena spoke as though it was common knowledge.

“Women?” Anora’s voice went inquisitive with a quiver, body stiff.

“I think what the Madame means, it is the best move tactically to target the women. In order to destroy an enemy fully.” Duncan jumped in and sent a harsh glare at Lena. _Quiet._

Lena looked at Duncan and then at Anora and Cailan who appeared appalled at the idea of targeting women. “Um… yeah. They target women because they know you’ll get distracted enough to lose focus.” She bold-faced lied. “You know, hit where it hurts?”

“I see.” Cailan became contemplative.

“But, they’re like ants. Right now they send out scouts to test the territory. And like ants, you take them out quickly or else you have a bigger problem.” Lena added.

“A bigger problem?” Cailan asked.

“Well if they've got the numbers to cause issues topside, I can imagine the numbers below had been large enough to rouse an archdemon.” Lena shrugged. “Though I’m not sure that's how it works.” Lena shrugged. “Duncan is the Grey Warden after all. He would know.”

“Which is why, your majesty, the army should begin training and resources funneled toward Ostagar.” Duncan added.

“Ostagar?” Cailan questioned.

“It would be the best location to hold back the horde if they are coming from the south.” Anora prodded him.

“The southern banns and freeholders have reported sightings of darkspawn. Trade and tax has significantly decreased.” Cailan considered.

“Now would be the time to start preparations for a proper defensive hold against their rising numbers and sightings. We need a fortress with an army trained to combat against the darkspawn if the raids begin to increase in size.”

“But we don’t know for certain they will increase in size.” Cailan added, his tone a bit sad.

“That may be true your majesty but pre-emptive preparations are better than none.” Duncan added.

“And hey, who knows. At least you’ll have another standing army in case Orlais or the Qun want to attack.” Lena joked while fanning herself, only it was less than ideally taken. Anora stiffened, Duncan stilled, and Cailan rose a brow.

“Orlais? Attack?” Cailan snorted. “Our fathers fought them back. It is as you said, they lost because tactically they were ill-equipped.”

“People learn from their mistakes. Also, historically - not to throw any shade or slack on the Grey Wardens but - Orlais has used the Wardens to invade before. You really shouldn’t underestimate them. I mean, right now they are waging a silent war on the rest of Thedas.”

“What?” All three of them turned to her.

“It’s a cultural war? Influence through the Chantry.” Lena began. When they didn’t pick up on it she sighed. “Kordillus Drakon wrote the Canticle of Exaltations years after Andraste had long returned to the Maker’s side. Then he had the tales of the disciples of Andraste bound together and formed the Chantry and Chant of Light.”

“Yes, that is fairly known, what does the Chantry have to do with a silent war Orlais is involved in.” Anora was intrigued - beyond intrigued.

“So the best way to take over a population isn’t done through brute force invasion. Too many casualties involved and you won’t have the population to handle that land if you up and killed everyone. No the best methods are conversion or education. The easiest being conversion. Education requires far more resources but it does have a larger pay off in the end, that’s why the dwarves have technologies the surface can only dream of.” Lena pulled a parchment from her bag.

“The first act of Kordillus Drakon was to create the Chantry followed by the seat of the Divine.  An Orlesian created the Chantry based off Andraste’s teachings. So what was next to ensure power? Spread the religion, get the population converted to Andrastianism and its Chantric morals - _Orlesian_ morals. By that conversion the people are encouraged to use the Chantry as their place of worship. Initially they seem accepting of the Old religions but overtime they expect the population to convert. And well you've been using the local Chantry as a place of worship and many of the teachings are similar. It's a hop skip and jump from worshipping the Avvar goddess the Lady of the Skies to Andraste who ascended to the Maker’s side. Fairly easy for that to become your new identity, you put aside your roots, your culture, your religion - fully assimilating into the Chantric life. You follow their status quo.” Lena took a break to gulp a mouthful of wine down finger raised to let Cailan, Anora, and Duncan know she wasn't done. She fanned herself before continuing.

“On top of that, they've taken the mage population of each kingdom and militarized them.” She rolled up her single sleeve, feeling like she was hot. The night are was chilled but she was building up a sweat with all this talking. “Though from what I’ve read they shoehorn them into specific sorts of magical practices, either healer or attacker.  So the Chantry and by extension Orlais - now possess a standing army in every Circle Tower where one mage equals 100 soldiers. Each Circle is **not** loyal to the kingdom of origin. Not Ferelden, not the Marches, not Nevarra, Antiva, Rivain. But to the Chantry - to Orlais.  They are trained, taught, and converted toward the Chantric rhetoric - Orlesian rhetoric.” Lena finished with swipe at a wine glass passing by and downing it and wiping her brow.

“You sound a bit like Loghain.” Cailan muttered.

“My father.” Anora clarified. “He has similar thoughts about Orlais, though not quite as developed as yours.”

“History tends to repeat itself again and again.” Lena tried to shrug it off but the looks she was getting was unnerving her. Had she spoken too much? This was all stuff that she headcanoned once upon a time, back on Earth. Was she now the equivalent of the tin-foil hat wearing sort of Thedas? Was _she_ the talkative man in the Hanged Man? “Anyway, uh yeah food for thought but what do I know. I'm just a prostitute.” She gave a nervous laugh and looked around. “Thanks for the wine. I'll leave you be, your majesties. Duncan.” She was up and off the table before they could call her back.

Lena put as much distance as inconspicuously possible between them and her. Her bag clutched tight as she went in search of Athenril. How long had she been a chatty Cathy with them? Who knows but she needed to find Athenril and the girls. Her feet carried her out of the garden to the main courtyard. It wasn’t any cooler out there, in fact with her moving she felt the sweat roll down her back a bit.

Stopping at a window, she glanced at her reflection and gasped in horror. Her skin was white and pasty like snow and translucent that she could see the veins in some of the thinner locations. But her cheeks were red, lips puffy and also red and her eyes were always dark but this looked like her pupils were heavily dilated. She raised a hand to her face, disbelieving of what she was seeing. It was like she had lost a lot of blood. How was she functioning? She had iron and protein deficiency anemia. She should be on the floor, exhausted or passed out!

This spectre in the glass was _not_ healthy. “What the fuck is happening to me?” She hissed, remembering Athenril’s observations.

“Madame!” Duncan’s voice had her turn in spot, wide eyes as he caught up to her.

“Warden.” She breathed. “I have nothing further to add. And I know- I know. I shouldn’t know so much about the darkspawn.” Lena blurted out, feeling talkative again. What was _wrong_ with her. She was breaking her own vow to not change anything. While she might not change anything, Duncan might just conscript her ass just for knowing so much.  As Duncan slowed, the silence of the night alerted her to how _alone_ they were in the dark. She really hoped she wasn’t about to be conscripted. “Please don’t conscript me.” She added.

That threw him off guard. “I hadn’t intended on it.”

“Wait really? Not even with how much I know about the darkspawn?”

Duncan’s brows furrowed. “I had assumed you worked underneath the Assembly as you you participated in the war games?”

“War games?” Lena blinked.

“You mentioned them with...uh Gandhi?”

The name sounded odd coming from Duncan’s mouth but Lena couldn’t help but giggle.

“Your brother?”

“What?” Lena snickered. “No no. Gandhi isn’t my brother it’s uh a name we gave to a particular opponent who stated his conquering methods were peaceful, yet always would amass an army -” Lena rubbed the back of her hand. “Lets just say they weren’t very nice in the war games.”

“Wars never are.” He smiled. “You did work underneath the Assembly?”

“Uh...” Lena sweated.

“How else did you come upon such knowledge?”

“My parents. Before we were exiled they did. And well toward the end, people get chatty. They still had books and memories.” Lena shifted.

“Ah.” Duncan nodded, seemingly unconvinced. “You understand then, the need for secrecy. Though the Assembly did deem it wise to learn about darkspawn. I hadn’t realized they also practiced theoretical scenarios with the knowledge gleaned from study.” Duncan question.  “Given your people’s prolonged encounters with the Darkspawn, I expect there are some things you may know that the Wardens do not.”

“Hardly.” Lena laughed. “I have limited information.”

“Hmm yes.” He stared down at her.

“Was there… anything else you needed. Because it’s quite late.”

“Actually, yes.” Duncan stepped closer. “In your study of dwarven military history and war games, did you perchance come across any further tactics against the darkspawn horde without ranks?” Duncan asked.

“So, a hivemind horde?”

“Hivemind...that is an appropriate term for the darkspawn outside of a Blight.” He smiled. “If you would care to join me for further discussions, I would appreciate your dwarven insight.” He held his arm out.

Lena thought hard. Of all the strategy games she played in her previous life, the simulations of different army types were one of her favorites. Not because she was a military buff but because pitting a hundred thousand penguins against one Chuck Norris was both hilarious and devastatingly destructive to her computer.

“Well...I know a few strategies that could work.” She slipped her arm in the loop he made.

 

* * *

 

“Rinna.” Ferenna fell against her cushioned bed in her apartment.  The red crow mask of her lover tilted, sharp piercing eyes gazing at her before she prowled up onto the bed on hands and knees. The mask slid up over her hair and fell as her lips pressed against warm skin, trailing up in languid motions.

This is what the Antivan Princess lived for. These moments between them, in privacy. Her hand reached to brush a stray golden lock away, Rinna’s eyes burning with passion, and beneath that they calculated. They were never lost to the moment - in so far as Ferenna had seen. It was why she adored Rinna so. There was passion - spades of it - but she never lost herself. Not like men, who were fooled so long as you had their balls in your palm. So blinded by their desires they had little thought for how things worked.

Antiva had their very own version of the Grand Game, it was decidedly far more dangerous and immensely more pleasurable. Where tongues of wit and seduction were one and the same. Who you slept with and whom you didn’t influenced your role. It was why the Crows so often took up elves as their own, and especially ones like Zevran.

She’d nearly been had by Zevran, once upon a time. In her brother’s mansion.  The rest of the Crows came upon them. Zevran had meant to seduce her, meant to take her to bed but she saw through him.

She saw through Rinna as well, but Rinna was… **is** perfect.

Brains, beauty, and allure - though not entirely on the same level as Zevran in seduction, it didn’t matter. She saw something in Rinna. When she recognized the name, she saw her future.

Rinnala, bastard son to the late King Natale, now challenger for the throne through the Rosso Noche. A group she had dealings with that steadily grew in influence. With a deal struck, she gave over information to end her brother’s life in exchange for a place near Rinna.

She gasped as Rinna swirled a tongue over the sensitive flesh of her abdomen. The skin jumped with each flick and scrap of the crow’s dulled talons.

Rinna paused only to shift up, knee sinuously pushing at the apex of her thighs, rubbing in soft grinding motions as her tongue and lips trailed before her lips pressed against Ferenna’s.  Her fingers remained low, replacing her knee.

Licking her fingers, she glided them across Ferenna’s lips, parting them and teasing her entrance. Head angled up Rinna stared at her lover over her heaving breasts. Ferenna wouldn’t close her eyes, not for want of intimacy but because she knew Rinna was **still** a crow. The danger of her lover sent shivers down her spine at the thought. To imagine Rinna pulling a dagger out and dragging its edge across her thighs had Ferenna squirming just as Rinna dove in.

Her tongue flattened against Ferenna’s hooded clit before massaging in undulating motions and dragging down to her sopping slit. Fingers and tongue working in time to press into Ferenna. They crooked and twisted, and stoked in deep long movements.

“Más duros!”  She groaned and Rinna complied, digits pressing against her squeezing walls. “Que rico.” She wriggled, hips shuddering. Rinna pulled back for a breath and to watch as Ferenna grew closer to the edge. She turned her head and bit at Ferenna’s thigh, licking and rejoining her fingers.

“Voy a devorarte.” Rinna rumbled before doing as she promised. One finger slick in Ferenna’s juices slipped lower and pressed against her puckered arsehole, delicately working it’s way in.

“Ah!” Ferenna moaned and her leg quivered, eyes rolled back.  Her chest arched up.  Rinna had to slam her legs down to prevent a mess on the bed - a mess she much preferred on her tongue. Minutes went by as Rinna licked up every drop, cleaning up Ferenna and then sitting up to watch the afterglow on her patron lover’s face.

“Enjoy yourself?” Rinna taunted.

“Oh, yes.” Ferenna groaned out, hand out to bring her little crow closer.

“Ferenna…” Rinna crawled and settled next to her, just as a chuckle from the corner of the room had them both freeze.

“Taliesen.” Rinna smiled, watching as one of her other lovers meandered toward the bed.

“Are you not supposed to slipping off to Lady Mantillion’s quarters?” Ferenna chided as the man slipped onto the bed next to Rinna.

“I didn’t have to.”

“What?”

“Renard was drunk and hallucinating already. One more cup he asked. And so Zevran and I obliged.” Taliesen shrugged as he pressed a kiss to Rinna’s neck, fingers dipping between them as she parted her thighs. While Rinna had gotten Ferenna off, Taliesen knew Rinna wouldn’t ask for reciprocation and so he wanted to make sure she was well cared for as well.

“Tali-”

“Shh.” He mumbled into her ear and her breath hitched.

“No. Where is Zevran?”

“He should be watching the dwarf.” Ferenna sat up. “With you.”

“My job was to ensure the target was taken care of. Zevran was to watch your new plaything.” Taliesen didn’t like Ferenna, but she paid well to keep all three of them hired on for her. If it had been up to him - he would have killed her so many moons ago with her brother. But the Crows never missed an opportunity for a business proposition.

“You should check on him.” Ferenna halted his hand on Rinna, their gazes clashing.

“He’ll do fine on his own.” Taliesen smiled, but it was bitter as he didn’t even need to look to find where Rinna was most sensitive and how to lick and bite her neck to get her to gasp. “Perhaps, in the meantime, you can join Rinna and I.” The jab at Ferenna’s lack of making Rinna come was in his smirk as Rinna rolled her hips.

“Perhaps I shall.” Ferenna shifted downward, ready to reciprocate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember I said in the notes last chapter that it was like 11k words originally and decided to split it? Yeah this is the other half of that. And we are still not done with the 3rd night, might i add. 
> 
> Spoilers: ~~Hoho, there is a part 4 to the 3rd night in progress. And let me tell you - it is pure self indulgent fuckery on my part. Cause who _doesn't_ want to fuck a delicious Grey Warden? ~~
> 
> The bits with Ferenna, Rinna, Taliesen, and Zevran are important. Not now, but further down the line. 
> 
> Also HUGE shoutouts to Spellweaver and LonelyAgain for our late night tin-foil hat discussions involving Orlais's sneaky tactics and how they have a standing army in every country with the Circle Towers. 
> 
> Edit: in case you missed it. The "Gandhi" reference is a joke about Civilization with Gandhi being trigger happy with the nukes. Also the 1000 penguins vs Chuck Norris is a relatively recent reference regarding Ultimate Epic Battle Simulator. Though there have been other battle simulators before that, but that one is the most known as of late because of the YouTube videos about it.


	47. Chateau Haine, 3rd Night pt4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part four of the third night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. The Wyvern hunt celebrations have dwindled down and Lena and Duncan are alone in his quarters when Lena begins to feel the effects of the wyvern wine.

The Black Shadow worked with a deathlike swiftness as he climbed to the topmost apartment in the southern tower. His target abandoned it in favor of more luxurious distractions. He anticipated his target would be alone soon. Three figures were silhouetted in the window as he perched on the balcony.  His mask poised on his nose, shading not only his face but his heritage with his ears tucked. The black cloak flapped in the wind. He waited for the signal.

“ _Renard_.” An elder woman sighed as glass broke against the flooring. “If you must continue drinking that, at least eat something.”

“ _I will drink my fill, woman,_ ” jeered a drunken man.

The curtain on the window left a gap. The Black Shadow slipped closer to the window.  The Orlesian catching his ear, the gossip titillating.

“ _Your wife is correct, messere._ ”

“ _My wife should learn her place._ ” The man spat and once again he drank again.

“ _My place?_ ” Lady Mantillon expression became severe.

_“Perhaps you should slow down. There is much of the evening still-”_

“Adriano, pay my _dearly_ husband no mind. He wishes to return to the auction so he can stuff his petit prick into some wide eyed elf.”

_“Better a wide eyed rabbit than a decrepit-”_

_“Messere surely you don’t mean-”_

_“-barren old glacier who hasn’t spread those legs since I married her.”_

_“Well_ **_your wife_ ** _has brought you to the Pleasure Palace.”_

 _“Ha! Just so she can fuck a strapping young thing like you, instead of me.”_ Renard spat at Adriano.

 _“You imbecile. I didn’t get him for me."_ Mantillon sneered. “ _I got him for you._ The last thing we need is some knife-ear with your bastard again.”

“ _Careful, love._ ” Renard snickered as he rose, finger pointed at her. _“We have a guest who can hear, shall we cut off his tongue so he speaks nothing of this?”_

“ _I…I would never repeat this._ ” Adriano gulped looking between the two.

“ _Don’t be silly Adriano. It is precisely why I hired you. Because you’ll see soon enough._ ” She grabbed Renard’s glass and sipped it while walking away. “Renard is an impotent man, unfit to fulfill his duties as husband without forcing young knife-ears.”

Renard swore, spitting. _“Are you daft woman? That is bullshit.”_

 _“Prove me wrong, then."_ She glowered. _“Fuck him. Have sex with him, and imagine me.”_

 _“Why don’t I just fuck you instead.”_ He snarled, drunkenly charging forward.  She slapped him with the back of her hand, then pulled her glove back on to hide the reddened mark.

“You’ll lay no hand on me.” Her voice was cold, frigid as the glacier he claimed she was but her expression was polite - manicured into a perfect smile. _“Until I see you, fuck him.”_

The shadow’s brows rose beneath his mask as the couple stared each other down until Renard grabbed hold of Adriano’s neck. He didn’t have to watch the pathetic display of a man trying to prove himself. Of a whore trying desperately to bring to life a man’s cock and failing, the only few instances where it rose being when Adriano choked and seemed to pull off but once Adriano gained momentum it became flaccid and soft.

 _“You’re not doing it right._ ”

 _“Just admit it. You can’t.”_ Mantillon smirked. “ _Adriano. Come here._  Adriano swallowed, but nodded as she pushed him onto the bed, her hand working him over easily. “ _I could do this all day to you Renard, and you wouldn’t get hard. Yet Adriano here…” Her hand swirled, dipping to the base of his cock, a finger venturing further back. “Easy. But you, non. You are the sick one. Now sit back and watch what a_ **_real_ ** _man can have._ ”

Though she was an older woman, she was incredibly sprightly and tossed her leg over his hip and mounted Adriano. “Be a dear and hold onto my hips.” She grazed one lone finger down his cheek before beginning, her body bouncing and hips rolling while she gave a sneer to Renard who stayed only long enough to watch Mantillon’s “barren” center become slick.  Obscene sounds of his wife and the whore filled the room.  He stormed off.

The Black Shadow was quick to follow along the balcony toward the next, leaping across and perching as the dark night swallowed his movements. There was barely a sliver of the moon, if you could call it that. More of an outline. By tomorrow’s night it would be gone, bathing the world in a darkness so black, torches would be required by early evening; for both moons would be new.

Renard slammed the door to the bedroom, muttering curses in Orlesian as he grabbed a wine bottle.

It was clear the man was inebriated. One glass of aquae lucidus was a potential danger if the wine wasn’t fermented properly. And this man had far more than just one glass.

The Black Shadow almost wanted to let him drink himself to death but there was no guarantee the wine would accomplish that. He could not count on the possibility of three glasses doing him in, as fitting as it would be. Plus he had a contract and the Crows always made sure to fulfill their contract, one way or another.

He slipped one hand to his sleeve, fingers brushing across the enchantments to the cloak to activate them. It shimmered briefly before making the Black Shadow invisible.

He wasn’t gone or undetectable on the enchantment alone. If someone were to stare too long at his location they would see something off. And if he moved while they gazed at him, they would know.

That is of course, if they were sober.

Slipping into the room, he clung to the shadow as Renard paced - scoffing at the sounds emanating from the bedroom. The glass of wine was currently on the table across from the hearth half empty.

A novice assassin might poison the bottle it came from. But there would be a cursory investigation that would reveal the remnants of the poison.  A journeyman assassin would poison the the contents of the glass, there was still a chance of the poison being revealed.

But a master assassin would know to poison the lip of the glass. A touch of Quiet Death right where his lips would touch and - dead.

The Black Shadow waited by the couch as Renard succumbed to the poison. It was quiet - as it’s name foretold. Slowly he would be unable to move. His limbs growing weary as he then sat down, the glass dangling from his finger tips. His eyes fluttered as though sleep came upon him and then - his breath stopped as his entire body became paralyzed. Tongue heavy - with a high chance of him choking on it, and chest refusing to lift with the force of his lungs. His physical faculties working completely against him as he perished.

 

* * *

 

Only honored guests had their rooms in the Keep. As Duncan was not only in Cailan’s party but is a Grey Warden returning to a once a fort protected by the Order. He was given preference as stated by treaties with the de Montford family during the Fourth Blight. In times of crisis, the Fortress would become a stronghold, and in times of peace Grey Wardens would use it as a way point whilst traveling across the Marches. It was a welcome change to sleeping on the road, but one Duncan greatly appreciated.

The apartment given to him was more extravagant than he needed. It did give him access to a particular passageway to “The Retreat” where a Grey Warden store was. Of which he was glad, especially now with Cailan on board with beginning preparations. He would need to begin recruiting and there was a store of Andoral’s blood from the Fourth Blight in a cavern, opened only by Grey Warden blood. One of the many reasons why he agreed to come to Chateau Haine for the Hunt. He would replenish the stores in the Denerim Compound and Ostagar. A task for later that week.

A human servant waited on him during the day. They had retired to their room but there was a rope that would call them. While he hadn’t needed their assistance, he did now.

“Water you say?” Duncan questioned the petite dwarf who propped herself on a small stack of books to reach the table. Her gaze was wide, pupils fully dilated yet her mind was sharp - sharper than it had been before as she wrote in, admittedly, difficult to read script. She had trouble with the quill and ink but flourished with the charcoal pencil wrapped in a rag. She not once smudged the text or drawings across the parchment.

“Yeah.” She glanced up only to return to the parchment. “Wait, make sure they boil it.”

“Boil?”

“To purify it. Clean it as best as they can. Not like I have iodine.” She muttered.

“I'm sure they will use a purification rune.” Duncan assured her but pulled on the cord. Her scribbling stopped.  

“Purification rune?” Lena’s eyes widened. He was struck with how large they were, almost as large as an elf’s eyes. “Why didn't I think of that? This changes things.” She stared off into the distance for a moment before grabbing a different parchment and began sketching circles, lines, squares and small letterings at each line.

Duncan called the servant and explained his need for a flagon of purified water as well as something to sate his hunger. He had refrained from partaking in the wyvern or dragon steaks but he had seen the tiny dwarf decimate nearly four full servings fit for a king. She must have sated her large appetite before and given the wine she had consumed, he imagined she might not be hungry again. At least her stomach had something to absorb the copious wyvern wine she consumed.

“If you could also, retrieve a few more parchments.” He imagined his guest would work through the stack he had.  He looked over at the table where the stack of parchments dwindled as she worked to draw various hexagons with letters, odd characters, notes and what looked to be measurements by each. Perhaps a cipher of some sort? Was she a spy? Given her knowledge of military tactics and her earlier assessment of the military might of the Chantry, he could see it. But she held terribly against substances.

Not a spy then, just a scholar - former artisan caste, as she said.

“Will you also require witherstalk tea, ser?” The servant drew his attention back. The quick flick of his glance at the table, where Duncan had spent a minute too long gazing.  He had a woman of the evening in his quarters during the later hours. She was pressed over the table, even if by her own volition, standing on top of several books to reach and pressing her chest against the table. Her ample bosom all but spilling out of her dress. Her rear was raised and she had long since removed her boots. Her bare feet stretched out on the very tip of her toes and her skirt hiked up.

The servant gave a knowing chuckle.

“No I-” Duncan cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “That will not be necessary.”

“Are you sure ser? The other servants have spoken of her particular prowess and vitality with royalty. Possibly a match even for your Grey Warden stamina.” The servant giggled.

Duncan groaned. Yes. The stamina. He's had to deal with jokes about it all night. Especially here at the Palace. Many a noblewoman and a few of the whores were brazen enough to have approached him, asking if he needed aid and that they were up to the _Grey Warden Challenge_.

He had no doubt his fellow wardens in the Order took up many a woman. While he had in his youth once freshly made a Warden; the nights would end in disappointment as women and men alike could not keep up. Only a fellow warden could.  So he seldom partook of their advances anymore.

“Why don't I bring some. Just in case, ser.”  The servant slipped out with a knowing grin.

Duncan sighed, rubbing his temples. The interest he had in the woman before him was based in her intellect and extended knowledge of war games, only. While yes she was particularly appealing and gave rise to old desires to bed a noblewoman (or noble looking woman), he had other matters to worry about first. Like combating the Blight. This one would not be like Blights of old, especially considering past events.  He was not too old to dismiss a new perspective.

Though he did wonder. Had this Madame truly worked with the Dwarven Assembly? Given her apparent pedigree he assumed her lack of knowledge of basic purification runes was due to her caste.

“Madame.” He called her.

“One sec, just trying to remember this formula. Was it seventy potassium nitrate to fifteen charcoal?” She spoke as her eyelids fluttered shut whilst tapping the charcoal pen on the table.  Perking up with a bounce, a bounce that did not go unnoticed by Duncan, she grinned and scribbled quick.

“What are these?” Duncan came up beside her to peer at the apparent alchemical formula yet it didn’t appear like any formula he had seen.

She didn't respond right away. Her movements stilled and she shuddered with a breathy gasp so low. Had he not been right next to her, he would have missed it.

“Madame?” He tried again as he pointed at the strange swirling characters she had written. This time he might have spoke with a touch of breathiness in response. It elicited the same reaction. The side of her jaw and shoulder met as she tried to rub the raised gooseflesh away, her cheeks reddened.

“Num-numbers! They represent elemental numbers for their structure.” She explained as she shifted, her hips gave a wiggle, thighs pressed tight as her skirts were pulled between accentuating their thunderous shape. He imagined their close proximity produced a warmth most welcoming.

 _Blasted servant._ Duncan steered his gaze back to the papers. He had been aware of her occupation before but with the tea on his mind and the apparent wyvern wine affected dwarf in front of him, he became preoccupied with the shape and movements of her body.  Less so than her as she tried to quell her more vocal responses but was powerless to her instinctual reactions fueled by all she had consumed that night.

“I um…” she cast a questioning look at him.

“Hmm.” He hummed aware he could look down to see the strain of her rising and falling bosom but he remained vigilant, flicking between her eyes or the parchments.

“Sorry, the purification rune reminded me of distilling and decanting. Gotta purchase...” She began to mumble and then wrote a quick list of items of beakers, flasks, glass pipes, and lenses that he recognized but the “numbers” she spoke of, he didn’t understand.

“These are meant to represent numbers?” He asked again - though his voice was a tad more raised than it needed.

“The Roman- er Tevinter numerals are cumbersome in everyday life. This standard is easier and less unseemly.” She blinked and looked down again.

“Who invented this system?”

“I-...er I did. I use it with my partner and to maintain the books for Lord La Foix. Trying to make it a new Dwarven standard, ya know?” She laughed and tucked the papers aside, toward where her bag lay. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because you wanted me to show you the logistics of possibly funneling and cutting off Darkspawn movements?”

“You also mentioned a blets crag?” He fumbled over the word.

“Blitzkrieg?” She corrected. At his nod, she erupted into an in depth discussion of attacking with short, fast, yet powerful attacks and then dislocating the defenders with quick and undetected precision to surround them. After which, with combined arms, a mobile unit takes them down.

“An ever changing front.” Duncan was impressed. “The darkspawn will be unable to regroup. The widespread confusion will leave an opening.” He theorized, and at her nod he continued. “The infantry needed for mobile defense however.  Horse drawn carts and chariots, unless we go for brontos.” He was thinking of the cost and supplies. With Cailan on board, he had an idea what the funds would be like plus the Order did not allot much during times between Blights. If he made clear the sense of urgency and need to prepare before it became unmanageable,  perhaps the Orlesian Wardens would give aid. Otherwise they couldn’t afford carts and chariots. They would need quite a purse to fund this endeavor. Despite what he was taught of Grey Wardens staying out of political affairs, he knew many in Orlais still retained their rank and influence in the Grand Game.

“Carts and chariots are fine, but they work optimally on paved or even terrain. Wooden or metal wheels would get busted the faster you had to go. You need wheels, an axle, and a suspension system to withstand terrain. What’s the land like near Ostagar?” She questioned as she sketched a cart, only the wheels were larger and bulky.

“Mountainous with sloping hills and cliffs. The main fortress of Ostagar looks out toward a forest. But that is if a raid is coming from that direction.” Duncan described.

“Off road wheels.” Lena nodded as if he understood her.  With deft quickness, she drew wheels unlike anything he had ever seen on a cart with a steel elliptical spring suspension.

He observed her drawing, her fingers precise, thumb dragging so the charcoal smudged. With each line came the same characters - numbers.  He had seen smiths work metal into what they could, artist paint what they had seen, and inventors sketch designs, but never had he’d seen all three work combined. While on parchment, the metal and wood of the cart were realistic, as though miniature versions of what they would be. The lines and smudging gave it a sense of depth and shading. Even the metal components appeared as though light reflected off it. As though polished into a fine surface meant for royalty.

It was mesmerizing watching the delicacy with which she worked her fingers against the parchment. Smoothing and rubbing to create a picture most realistic.

It only stopped when her fingers quivered and curled in at odd clunky movements. She hissed as she brought her charcoal dusted fingers close where she stretched them, rolled her wrist and bent her fingers inwards until they popped and cracked before continuing.

Again, she drew an astounding picture. If he hadn’t seen it come to fruition before him - he would have thought it magic.

When she finished, he noticed she shivered with a shaky breath.

“Are you cold? I can retrieve a jacket.”

“Ah… no.” Her voice and manners became demure as she bit her lower lip and fluttered her eyelashes. She peered up at him, her gaze lingered on his arms.

The entire glance made Duncan’s throat dry.  He was pleased when the servant returned with a plate of food, ale, another stack of parchment and unfortunately - though perhaps fortunately - the witherstalk tea. It offered himself a slight distraction from her rousing looks.

“With the right connections in Tevinter or Par Vollen, we could make these.” Madame Selena finally spoke as she straightened.

“Why there?”

“They’d have para tree. Need the tree sap to make vulcanized rubber for wheels for a few inventions. But with a little modification these things can go damn near anywhere.”

“How?” Duncan pulled the parchment and examined it.

“The teeth in the rubber design.” She pointed. “It grips the ground, allowing friction and push with the force you put in it. It won't get stuck in mud either. So hitch up the horse to the wagon with these wheels and you’ve got a mobile unit that won’t jostle as much.”  She muttered. “Huh… actually.” There was a slow realization coming across her as she regarded what she drew. The implications of it had her mind swirling. If she continued on this, it would jump start the industrial revolution on the surface by introducing new technologies for the purpose of War. Even if that war was the Blight, she’d be funding a war effort with her 21st century knowledge. All for a profit. Could she do that?

Lena looked up at Duncan as he regarded her. Would this much of an advantage over the darkspawn allow Duncan to survive? Cailan? Would Loghain see it as a boon and choose not to betray the Grey Wardens?  How far could her actions and inactions change things? She knew with Petrice dead the Arishok ordeal might not escalate. What would it affect?

There was a time - months ago - when she first arrived she had promised herself to not interfere.  Of course that decision was influenced by the shock of her predicament and later powered by good intentions.  She spent days, sometimes weeks, where hope would gnaw at her in the night. Maybe - just maybe she’d wake up from an especially long dream - _shaping_ \- and be back home. Yet nine - almost ten months with no way closer to the Black Emporium and she was able to sleep easier. Oh sure there some days she woke up, heart pounding, but those days were less and less.  And her earlier good intentions went to hell in a handbasket when she beat Petrice’s face in with a statue of Andraste. ( _Andraste Slightly Approves +3_ ).

She has the chance to change the outcome of the battle at Ostagar. It had far larger and far reaching consequences than the dinky letter she sent Malcolm.

“Selena?” Duncan pressed his hand to her exposed shoulder, drawing her from her thoughts and inner monologue.

“Huh?” Lena drew a breath in at his proximity, the touch of his hand sent a shiver down her back before blooming in heat at the base of her spine.

“Are you well?” Duncan asked, concern etched on his expression. He raised her chin to look into her eyes. The dilation of her pupils was still present but her skin had regained color. He huffed a breath as he pulled back but she gave another shiver this one followed by a moaning whine in the back of her throat. The back of his neck warmed, knowing her reaction was due to his touch.

“I just, had a thought. Uh…” Lena licked her lips as his hands withdrew, her dark gaze flicked up to meet his worried look. The familiarity with which she knew that expression made her heart pang in sorrow and grief for his eventual death, but made other parts of her pool with heat. _Could she save him?_

_She could._

If Bianca and her can get the prototype made of her new Seed Drill with the tires - they can get a working off road cart. _We can build it, we have the technology._ She could more than save Duncan, she could save Thedas. _Save the Warden, save the world._  

Even if she found a way home, maybe she could change it for those she leaves behind? Leave instructions, weapons, a way to fight back and give Thedas, humans, dwarves, Qunari, City and Dalish elves a fighting chance. Of course, she couldn’t do any of that without seeing if she could make a grander scheme change. It would start with the Grey Warden before her.  Duncan survives the battle of Ostagar, certainly not for long, but long enough to help the future Hero of Ferelden. Or he’d be the Hero of Ferelden instead of a young plucky new recruit.

“Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn, right?” Lena questioned.

“Ah- yes. We can, you know this.”  It was not what he thought she would say.  Almost instantly he reached with the part of himself to sense the darkspawn near the Chateau. He knew where the closest raid of them were from earlier due to the progression of his Calling but as he tried to pinpoint them exactly - he faltered. No _he_ didn’t, his ability to sense them did. It was as though the call of the taint drew back - disconnected from all others. No longer a chorus but a single voice in a void.

“How accurately can you sense them?” Her question drew his attention.

“Fairly accurate?” He looked around, brows furrowed as he tried again. But again, it was blocked - distorted sounds. He strained only to detect a low thrumming.

“Can you detect numbers, positions, where they are going?”

“A more experienced Warden can determine that with training.” Duncan tilted his head, brows furrowed as once again he tried to reach out to sense but now he couldn’t even sense the presence of darkspawn. What was stopping him?

Lena’s lips spread across her face in a languid motion. “Lyrium.”

“What?”

“Lyrium is explosive when exposed to fire.” Lena started, remembering her ordeal in the mountain.

“Yes. Disastrously so.” Duncan nodded, distracted whilst attempting to sense the darkspawn. The familiar vibrations of the encroaching Calling was quiet.

“If you prepare it a certain way in a lead chamber with a fuse, when thrown you can cause an explosion from a distance. It’s a great way to attack, with short powerful bursts at a mindless zom- darkspawn raid.”

“Lyrium charges?” He had seen them, in the Deep Roads before. While he had wondered how they were made he assumed it would be something the Dwarves would never let reach the surface.  

“Soldiers on the carts with a modified slingshot or lyrium grenades or even a bag of lyrium. An archer aims for that bag as it’s coming down and boom- explosion, sending caltrops and metal shards around it. Worse case scenario, you knock down a good chunk of a squad of darkspawn. But best case...” She trailed off letting Duncan fill in the image.

A small retinue of carted soldiers launching lyrium dust with archers armed with fire arrows. Chaos among the darkspawn. They perish quick and on fire, or they are confused, allowing for a unit of archers to pick them off.  Why hadn’t they thought of this before?

He knew why.

“Getting a large enough supply of lyrium for this purpose would be difficult and expensive.  Purchasing it in it’s processed dust form is usually reserved for the Chantry for the templar’s philters. We would have to go through less than ideal means.” Duncan stated, watching her reaction. Testing her problem solving ability. Something had changed in her demeanor, a softness to her regard for him. It was subtle and had he not been gagging her body, he would have missed it.  

“Rumor has it that some Grey Wardens used to be criminals.” Lena shrugged with a coy smile. Duncan stiffened. “Or is that lies and slander?” Lena offered with a shit eating grin. “Anyway it’s a concept now, but the dwarves of Orzammar have used lyrium in blast charges for cave ins in the Deep Roads before so it’s not completely new. Just a new application for the surface.”

“It is interesting. Paired with trebuchets and catapults-”

“Don’t forget ballistas for the Ogres!” Lena grinned.

“Yes, the ballistas. With these explosives, combined with mages to freeze movements and then take fire with multiple ballistas, it would take care of a squad of Ogres and the raid surrounding them. Even in small scale this tactic would be quite… distancing.” Duncan muttered.

“And safer.”

“Far and far safer.  With a trebuchet we can even be a league away. Though if close quarter fighting needs to happen, they will be disorientated and disadvantaged.”

“Easy pickings.” She smiled. “After you’ve mowed down a significant portion of their front line. I’d suggest trenches dug out before hand-”

“So the soldiers can run forward and duck down, allowing the explosives to work before they climb out to get the stragglers.” Duncan nodded.“The fortress would act as the supply base. Stores of pre-made explosives charges or prepared sacks.”

“Picture, if you will.” Lena touched his arm. For a moment her hand lingered, gripping him and eyeing the bulge of his forearm muscles. He might have tensed his arm under her attention. One of her brows rose up in intrigue, her lips puckered open in a look of pleased surprise.

Lena cleared her throat and waved her hand out in front of them. “A warden to each squad of soldiers, huddled around a prepared field of trenches and spiked and barbed walls to control the flow of the battlefield. The wardens can point out when the darkspawn moves, splits, and changes course. Mobile units supplies the squads with explosives, but they too have their own soldiers to attack. They also run resupplies. Add in timed charges, or pressure sensitive charges out beyond the field of trenches prepared in advance. Ballistas lined up, ready and trained to only attack Ogres. Trebuchets from a distance to take out larger numbers from afar. If it is just a raid, then you’ve got a load of overkill, but if it’s a Blight. You’ve _owned_ the battlefield every step of the way.”

Duncan could see it. The problem was, he could only see it in theory. He considered her. “That is all well and good but how do your designs fair in practice?”

“Ah...well…” There she faltered and looked away. “I haven’t any made yet. To be honest I’m just thinking it up right now.”

“Right now?” Duncan wouldn’t have believed that at the start of the day, given her reaction to confrontation with darkspawn, but many a general in the past have been able to direct their army about without once stepping on the field themselves.  But he did have to hand it to her. She was incredibly quick thinking to solve problems. Gaseous wyvern venom was deadly. No one exposed to it, let alone ignited venom had survived - until then.  Cailan survived thanks to her quick thinking of how to put it out. The King of Ferelden barely had a scar on him. Here she was again, thinking of possible explosive arms for a theoretical Blight. While much of the Order might feel it, it wasn’t official. He wondered what else could she think of if fully committed to war endeavors. “Why are you a prostitute?”

“Wha...uh that is not what I expected you to ask.” She leant back.

“These designs, even in theory are precise. Yet you are a whore.”  Duncan was curious, beyond so. “Why? When you have talents far beyond that station, you have skills from your time as an Artisan that could be used for greater purpose. If you wanted to, you could take these designs to any smith in Thedas and make them reality and gain riches beyond what you could make in a night?” Duncan peered at her, curious of her story.

It was a long silent moment between them as he stared, wishing for a proper explanation for why she was here and not in an estate in Tevinter, having sold off these designs to a Magister to combat against the Qunari.

“Don’t get me wrong. The riches are tempting but...” Lena clasped her hands. “...I do have standards and do understand what some of these weapons could do. The devastation. It is one thing to have access to superior weaponry, it’s another to know when it is good to use them. Darkspawn, _Blights_...I’d say that’s a worthy cause because it affects everyone.”

He believed her but there was something else she wasn’t saying. Much as he’d like to interrogate her for more, this Chateau was not secure. Given her earlier knowledge on darkspawns targeting women, he much rather have Commander Larius send wardens to investigate. This wasn’t his jurisdiction after all. For now, he would send word to Larius of everything he has learned.

Duncan nodded as he slipped from her side to answer the call of his stomach. In the process he poured fresh water for Lena, who finally took note of the spread.

“Ah. water, wait let me see the rune?”

“The rune would be in the kitchens. I can call the servant back-”

“Oh, no. Never mind.” She shrugged and sipped at the mug of water. Her eyes closed and she gave an erotic moan as her thirst was partially quenched. Droplets dribbled down her chin to her neck as she angled her head back.  

Duncan’s brows shot into his forehead as he nearly set his plate down to catch her. Her legs were weak, but she recovered and her entire face bloomed in red.  “Sorry, I don’t...I don’t know what came over me.”

“That would be the wine.” Duncan explained.

“Wine?”

“The wyvern wine. I had wondered when it would begin to affect you. You drank quite a bit of it.” Duncan muttered. It was there Duncan recalled the tea as she stared at it and slowly turned to look at him, a question on her lips. But she did not ask, merely rose a questioning brow.

“It’s really hot.” Lena’s voice was breathy, as she huffed, her hand now waving.

“The wine.” Duncan muttered but he did step toward the windows to open them, allowing the cool night air in.  He turned, only to be surprised when the dwarf was pulling her dress off her to create some sort of air flow.

“What does it do anyway? Serendipity said it had hallucinatory effects.” She sighed. “Feels like I’m burning up.”

“It will also make you particularly in tune to your feelings.” Duncan explained.

“What?”

He stepped toward her. “If you’ll allow me?” He held his hand out for her to place in his. Upon resting it against his, she shivered. His fingers trailed across her palm a hair's breadth away from her skin. It sent her squirming as he inched closer to her wrist where he grazed it and lowered his head to blow air across the pumping sensitive veins. Lena gave a strangled moan. Her right leg quivered and she tripped backwards when it gave out under her. Duncan was quick to catch her but it made it worse for her as she groaned, eyes closed tight.

“Fuuuccck. It’s eccstaasssy…” She hissed, connecting the dots.

“It could be.” Duncan’s tone sounded throaty to her, but when she glanced at him, she saw strained worry. Or was it worry? She had never seen Duncan in game with any other expression. Exasperated with Alistair perhaps but not much else? That wasn’t right. He was a person in front of her, not some character.

He _was_ worried but there was something else, some other licentious intent in his expression.

“Could?”

“For some, one glass of aquae lucidus has the potential to cause a truly sensory experience. Once you begin drinking more than one, the effects can become...intense.” Duncan explained when her breath hitched.  “There are some who would prey on those under the effects of the wine.”

She shivered, aware of his flexing muscles as he guided her to the nearest chair. Duncan was a dual wielding rogue who used to be a criminal. While she was used to criminals, it was typically of the variety that wouldn’t hurt her physically. And those that did... wound up as soap.  Duncan had at least been a thief before he was a Warden. What else had he been? Her breath quickened until Duncan withdrew from her, giving her space. Instinctively she went grasping for her dagger but recalled setting it inside her boots, by the door - thinking he wouldn’t hurt her. She _had_ to stop thinking of them as the characters they were in the game, the pedestal she placed them on and what they represented rather than what they could be. They were _people_. Blinking, she shook her head and took a second look at Duncan now.

“Her majesty, Anora thought it best I accompany you for the remainder of the evening while she and Cailan retired to their room.” Duncan sat opposite her.

Lena gaped. Anora had told him to watch out for her?

“Your shadow, the elf… Athenril, she had disappeared and Anora worried you may be taken astray by someone with less than reputable intentions.” Duncan added. “I admit, I also wanted to further discuss with you your thoughts on possible tactical advances.”

“Two birds…” Lena nodded, though now she was too keenly aware of her predicament. Suffering from the Thedosian equivalent of ecstasy and in close proximity to a Grey Warden whom she previously wouldn’t mind having a roll in the hay with. Though there were the heated looks, the straying touches and how close he lingered. “You wouldn’t take advantage of me? Right, Grey Warden?”

There was a long moment as they held eye contact. Lena’s lips felt dry so she licked them. His abyssal gaze glanced at them before he shook his head.

“No, Madame. I wouldn’t.”

“That’s too bad. I wouldn’t mind you taking at all.” Lena smiled. The last time she’d been on ecstasy had been in college during her more destructive phase. Skittling prescription drugs after the incident got old and so she turned toward club drugs. It made her feel high and funny and sensual. She would always remember her first time on ecstasy and her _first time_ with ecstasy. Touch, smell, sound, taste, sight, her balance wobbling, feeling like she was rushing and the precipice of pain leading to exponential amounts of pleasure. Her already hypersensitive self fine tuned with the drug had her whole body lit up at every movement. She really hoped she didn’t cry during her orgasms this time.

Duncan’s shoulders heaved before he rose. She thought he might come for her but he walked past her and away. She turned only to see him by the table, staring down and shuffling papers aside. Occasionally the clink of ceramic teacups sounded and then a cup was set down, not slammed but loud enough that Lena looked but couldn’t distinguish what he had downed.

Lena sighed. She could still have a good time on her own, but she’d rather do it in her room and not surrounded by - she took a heavy breath through her nose - the scent of sweat, of blood, of a heady masculine scent that she was all too familiar with. The tang of metal, the chill of night, and the touch of coconut.

Coconut? Where was that-

Lena gasped as aged and calloused fingers brushed aside her hair to expose her uninjured shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 5 of this night is in progress. There are a lot of important stuff happening that I must show you now, so it makes sense later. 
> 
> I've had this idea that thanks to Garahel, there has been a scandalous idea that the Grey Warden Stamina is a sort of challenge. So while some people view the Grey Wardens heroically, some view them as a sexual conquest. 
> 
> In case you missed it the reference, The Black Shadow (aka Zevran) killed Renard, [Lady Mantillon's 7th husband](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Mantillon_\(Inquisition\)). 
> 
> BIg thank you to Spellweaver for helping with this chapter. And also it was Spellweaver that added the "Andraste Approves +3" :P 
> 
> FYI: Updates have been kinda slowish because I've been on again and off again sick and I feel myself getting sick _again_. Also, I'm going back to school in September so updates will be even slower.


	48. Chateau Haine, 3rd Night pt5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part five of the third night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. We take a look at what's going on with one very annoyed bodyguard and take a cheeky look to how Lena is handling Duncan.

Athenril perched outside the door Faith had entered with her conquest. She was to stand guard but she knew the deal. Stay to ensure the customer didn’t harm her and then continue to accompany the other girls to their rooms with the customers. Usually there was no issue, and usually she need only stand there and appear intimidating.

Years of coming here with Harlan or Madame Lusine had made her acquainted with the guests and their mannerisms. It didn’t make it easier as nobles passed and believed her one of the servants until her daggers flashed and she bared her teeth at them. She was no common whore. She was a bodyguard. Disgraced, fallen from her potential - yes. But she was bound to this lifestyle, bound to Harlan and now bound to Selena. All because of foolishness. Hindsight was a cruel mistress.

“Athenril…”

The coterie looked up at Adriano who was paler, shaking and twitched as he slunk toward her.

“Prudence told me to get you.” He muttered.

“Why?”

“We...we have a problem.” Adriano’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers shook.

Aware of their exposed surroundings, she nodded. She couldn’t leave Faith completely alone. Fist banging on the door, she didn’t wait. Trouncing in and tossing a few coins at the man who had paid and dragging the woman out.

“Athenril!”

“Shush.” She pressed her dress over her head and yanked her along. “Go back to your quarters. The evening is done.”

Adriano led her toward one of the guest wings. He was about to lead her right in through the main entrance but she scoffed. “Where?

“Third floor.”

“This way.”

She knew this keep well enough to avoid detection. With a hand at one of the side wall, she ascended through the servants entrances on narrow dusty steep stairs. Her still healing leg shook at the strain. _Ignore it._

Adriano led her further toward the room, careful of the servants flitting about to the other rooms, sneaking in to start the fires. One servant was halted outside one room next to a familiar cutting figure. Her blonde hair up high in a bun with a ringlet of curls, perfectly situated and never moving. Frozen in spot like all of her features. _Prudence._

Athenril didn’t have to look to feel the waves of blood magic at work and halted before approaching, else she’d be caught in the spell the maleficar was working. Her teeth ground, knowing the precise way to approach to take her out but being unable to do anything. Her hand pressed to her chest. A scar so faded that wielded so much over her. A debt carved in flesh; She wasn’t sure if it was better than a debt wrapped around her spirit.

_Arianni’s fingers splayed over the scar crossing over Athenril’s breast where it left one of her nipples permanently puckered. Athenril closed her eyes, body shuddering as she moaned. The moan quickly turned to a cough as it strained her throat. ._

_“Hush.” Arianni pressed a gentle hand against her lover’s throat. A faint glow sparking at her fingertips, soothing any pain in Athenril’s. Feynriel was yet asleep, so she did not fear using her magic. But if they both used their magic, it would be too much at once and would draw any nearby Templars’ attention._

_“Aria…” Athenril grimaced as Aria’s fingers traveled further down her body. The touch of magic doing more healing than anything Feynriel was able to do. Feynriel had power, bluster and magnificent but he didn’t know how to fine tune it. Still, it helped to speed up the body’s natural healing but Arianni could take her experienced hand and finish as much of the healing as she could. She knew how much power to apply and where to put it to be most effective. All with the slightest of touches._

_“Shh, let me work now that we’re alone.” Aria patted Athenril’s cheek before continuing. Feynriel had done the skin healing, when the little dwarf had been around. But now that she was gone, Aria could do it._

_“What’s the point.” Athenril choked out._

_“I’ll not lose you.” Aria grit her teeth._

_“I’ve incurred another debt, Aria.” Athenril rushed out, wheezing toward the end. Aria frowned and touched her throat, applying more healing there._

_“At least it’s a dwarf this time?” Aria tried to make light of the situation, recalling the sing song way Lena had claimed the debt Athenril owed her._

_“At least if I’m crippled, they won’t need me.”_

_“There are other ways to collect.” Aria said. She didn’t want Athenril subjected to those “other” ways. Harlan already made her do that on occasion. Mostly recently with Cora._

_“I know…” Athenril closed her eyes._

_Aria leant forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I could break it-”_

_“Don’t.” Athenril blurted out. Aria bit her lip at Athenril’s immediate response. “Harlan will know. And if he does, then she might too. I don’t want you in the crossfire.”_

“So glad you could finally join us.” Prudence’s saccharine tones had Adriano drawn closer, eyes wide. Athenril shook her head, resolve steely as she stared at Prudence. “What’s the matter?”

“I will approach, once you lower your glamour. _Maleficar._ ” Athenril ground out.

“There’s no need for name-calling.” Prudence tutted as she lowered her glamour. Adriano faltered, coming to himself. “I simply forgot.”

Athenril rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe her for one second.

“You will need to change into servant’s garbs.”

“Why?”

“My customer is still awake, waiting for me to return and...I...I can’t go into his room again.” Adriano shifted in place.

“Your client was Lady Mantillon.”

“Mantillon of the Grand Game. It seems she’s been targeted as part of the game, even all the way up here.” Prudence shrugged, as though it was no bother.

Athenril took a deep breath. _Orlesian politics._ “Who is dead?”

“Her husband.”

“I… I didn’t want to just blame it on one of the servants.” Adriano muttered.

“Yes, he simply insisted something must be done. I could have had this girl set up to be responsible but well…”

“It’s wrong.” Adriano whispered. “And…” Here he looked at Athenril with meaning. “Dip would never forgive me.”

Athenril sighed. She looked the glamoured servant girl up and down. She’d need her clothes to go unnoticed. Changing into a servant’s dress was easy. Doing so away from prying curious eyes - harder. Prudence barely caught a glimpse of her but Athenril didn’t have much time.

“Go back to the quarters-” Athenril instructed Adriano.

“I’m… supposed to stay with Mantillon.”

“Of course you are.” Athenril ground out. “Take these to the room, then come back and join her. I’m going to take a look.” She handed him her clothing, pulling the dress she wore up.  The servant was a bit taller than her.  

“Thank you. I-...I owe yo-”

“No.” Athenril cut him off, and gripped his arms. “You owe me _nothing_.” She released a breath. “Go, do as I said.”

With Adriano gone, it was Prudence, Athenril, and the servant girl they had undressed, still under Prudence’s glamour.

“You’re so careful with those words.” Prudence teased.

“You know why.” Athenril snapped back. With no further word she slipped into the room. She had her dagger on her, hidden beneath the dress, strapped to her legs. Unfortunately part of her tattoos were displayed. It would have to do. No one important would see them anyway.

The room, like much of Chateau Haine was lavish. Overly decorated in curtains, baubles and statues that one didn’t need but showcases their wealth and influence. Duke Prosper was such a man to display such excess, even in their guest quarters.

There were three doors that connected to the main living quarters. One, she knew was a bathroom. The other two, she paused listening. Her ear pressed to the door and she heard light breathing and shifting. She ignored that one and went to the other.

She stepped into the room, her ears perked upright with one swiveled forward facing and the other tilted back like the ears of a rabbit.

Her gaze swept across, taking in the empty bottles of wine on the table, one half spilled over, another shattered on the ground and the disheveled curtains that were tucked into a corner, letting in a cool burst of mountain air. She stepped through eyeing the small couch where she found the body. A glass inches from his empty hand that dangled over the side. His mask had fallen from the odd posture and angle of his head. She could see his eyes were fully closed. Attributing it to Adriano’s care, Athenril pulled his lids half open. His body was still warm, though he was getting cold and fast.

Picking up the wine glass on the floor she took a sniff.

If she’d been anyone else, she could have ignored the lack of a scent. But she wasn’t anyone else, so Athenril squinted at the glass.  With a quick wipe of her finger, she tasted the remnants and spat it out. She rubbed her tongue on her dress shoulder. _Quiet Death._ A poison she was intimately familiar with.

She cursed Lena’s interaction with the Crow.

 _Right, first thing._ She turned to the shattered wine bottle. She cleaned it up and tossed it into the small wicker bin basket, then rolled up the rug that had been stained with the spilled wine and set it by the door. She left the rest of the mess behind and instead picked the single glass off and gave a quick rinse down with more wine before spilling it over the edge of the open balcony and set it by the nightstand. Then she hefted the body up and got it on the bed, setting the scene.

She tracked the movements he _might_ have made, or will be assumed he made in the investigation. Athenril rearranged the bottles, setting one by the bed as well. She propped his head against a pillow, removed his shoes, and undid his clothes.  She took another look, when she spotted his mask and picked it up and put it back on him.

“Too much to drink, then fell asleep. Wyvern poison.” Yes, that would work. She licked her lips and picked up the bin and rug and walked into the shared space only to freeze at seeing what she guessed was Adriano’s customer.  

“Hmph…” She hummed as she dragged on a long thin smoking pipe before blowing directly in Athenril’s face. Her expression was one of impatience as she looked at what Athenril carried. “You have until sunrise.” She stated and turned back to the other bedroom. “I’ll call the guards then.”

Athenril gritted her teeth. _Orlesians. Because of course this had been something she knew about, or even contracted the Crows to do._ She growled as she burst through to the hallway and shoved the bin and rug at the still glamoured serving elf.

“Well?” Prudence asked.

Athenril sent a silent glare at her and disappeared back into the room.

Something was wrong. She swept her gaze across the room.

One of the bottles was missing from the table.

The window was now covered by the curtains, billowing in the wind.

They _had_ been tucked in the corner before she stepped out.  

Even if they had come undone, they would still be drawn to the side.

She drew her dagger, ready for a scuffle. One breath, two, and she pulled the curtain back to find - no one. No one but a single glass filled with wine perched on the railing.

 _What was this?_ She stepped to it and and sniffed the air, ears perked as she heard a silent thud behind her.

Steel clashed against each other as she caught the blades of the very Crow responsible for the murder she was now covering up.

“Silent Plains Piquette.” Came the Antiva purr as his blade slid against hers, meant to throw her off. He was taking advantage of her limp. She was not so easily thrown off her feet.

“Never tasted it.” She quipped back, and used her one hand to keep balance on the railing. She was at an extreme disadvantage, but she was confident she could hold him off.

“Oh… pity.” He recovered as she used her good leg to kick him away. “One as lovely as yourself deserves the finer tastes.”

“I’m fine without some cheap grape juice.” Athenril rolled her eyes and switched her dagger to her left hand, to get a proper handling of the railing behind her. The Crow smirked underneath his mask at the move. He thought she was switching to her less dominant hand. _Big mistake._

He came at her with force then, quick, but with her right hand supporting her, her left met each of his plunges, and her forearm, still armed with a steel vambrace, caught the other dagger as she twisted her entire arm. In fact she was more confident in her left hand than on her right.

“Ambidextrous.” He smiled. “Full of surprises, mi pequeña.” He cooed.

_“What a good job, my little one.” Harlan pet her head as she killed her Tevinter master and trainer. Harlan beamed at her, even as she limped toward the door. The blue tattoos marking her as her Tevinter master’s property were all on display even as she stepped out._

_“Can we go to Kirkwall now?” She asked. He’d sent her to Tevinter to learn this art, purely so he could boast of having one under his employ.  Even if it meant pretending to be a slave. The prestige of having a sheathed Magekiller was something to be admired, even in the South. “When are you going to remove these infernal tattoos?”_

_“I quite like them.” Harlan muttered, but he hadn’t joined her in the hallway._

_“The Magister did the ritual wrong, they don’t even work.” She sighed. The blue coloring was meant to be active lyrium, but the magister skimped out to save a few stacks of gold and instead used dead lyrium. Old and inactive with no magical properties to it, or so it seemed. “Harlan?” She called but he was examining the bodies still._

_“One moment.” He was rummaging through the robes of her old master._

_“What are you?” She walked back in as the waves of blood magic. She had become accustomed to the sensation. She was powerless then as the heady waves stilled her._

_“We have one more thing to do.” Harlan rose holding the amulet he had pulled. “You see, you’ve been given a privilege. One I granted to you.” He stated._

_Athenril could do nothing but stare at him._

_“How are you going to pay me back?”_

Athenril’s chest pulsed with pain as the scar seared hot with the memory. Harlan would know she was thinking of him, of when she received it.

“I’m not-” She growled and lunged to the Crow with a ferocity that made her forget the pain in her leg. “-your little one.” Her dagger caught his shoulder, but it hadn’t punctured him. She felt feel his graze her arm - it ripped through the servant dress she wore before dropping.  He caught her waist. She could just make out the suggestive eyebrow raise from behind his mask. She gave a frustrated sound and yanked her knee up to his groin. Underhanded, but he deserved it.

“Oof,” he whined and fell back away to cup himself. His daggers were meant to drop to the floor but they dangled from his wrists from a leather strap. Ingenious for quick access, but also meant it left them open to be held away from him.

He recovered enough to block her follow up attack. He used his cape to distract her and lunged for her, gripping her armed hand and twisting her wrist and forcing her dagger to drop.

Unarmed she stared at him as he bore down on her.

“Relax, cara mia, I am not here to hurt you.”

“No, just the elf who’ll be blamed for this.” She spat at him. The Crow stilled at that.

“Who do you think hired you? The fucking Orlesian in that room.” She seethed.

He looked at the room again.

 _Idiot._ She yanked his dagger up and cut the strap. But he was back on her. She used his dagger to block his and glowered.

She pushed and he stepped back into the room as she attacked him. She stabbed; he dodged.  He swiped and she leant back. She spun to kick at his legs, he jumped up but she managed to tear through his cape.

“Ah!” He groaned. “That wasn’t nice.” He stepped back and removed his cape, revealing the linked armor he wore.

It looked like feathers, even his greaves held the same look. With that much armor, how exactly had he been able to move so silently? The faint shimmer on the metal and engraved runes let her know her answer.

“I’m not nice.” She ground out and the two danced again.

Jab to the left. Punch to the face. Yanking clothing and armor. Steel clashed and they both panted. They were evenly matched, which was a testament to Athenril’s skill because she was not at her full capability. The Crow noted that, and glanced at her leg, worriedly. He need only last long enough for the leg to give in, but how long would that be?

He has to make sure no one knew of his involvement. He’d seen how she had spat the even taste of a poison and how she handled the entire crime scene. She was skilled and knowledgeable. But who?

He caught a glance of her arm, a flash of intricately blue tattoos. _It couldn’t be._ She came at him again and he’d been too distracted, the knife plunged into his shoulder, right between plates of steel.  He didn’t cry out but something changed in the air as he felt blood drip down his arm.

“Ugh…” Athenril grimaced as pain seared hotter on her chest until it pulsed into her arm.

The Crow gaped as he was sure _he_ should be in pain, not her.

She pressed her left hand against his abdomen and then he was in pain.

It felt like her whole hand punctured through the armor right into him.

He looked down and it had. The blue swirling tattoos alight. The stories, the legends. He felt his throat tighten and fear laced up him.

“Scorp-”

She slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Don’t.” She seethed against him, as her body shivered. Her hand squirmed against him and then her hand pulled back and smacked the wall they had fallen against. She pulled herself off him, her arm retracting from him, leaving the skin and armor, appearing completely unscathed and undamaged.

Athenril stumbled back, breath heavy and she stared at him. “Get out.”

The Crow shivered, but nodded. He gripped his cape, and stared back at her

Athenril heaved gulping breaths of air, waiting for the waves of power to recede on her arm.

_Athenril stood in front of the group of guards with nothing on but her smalls and breast band. The vibrant red scar on her chest was fresher as it connected to the tattoos. Tattoos that only moments earlier, she thought had been done incorrectly._

_She’d been wrong. The magister forgot one ingredient, one ritual._

_“Athenril.” Harlan stepped up besides. “Perform your duties as my left.” He reached out his left hand and she raised hers. The tattoos swirled on her skin until they connected with the one across her chest, right over her heart. The heat seared her into action and she was off into the guards. Her arm was granted the strength to pierce through anything yet leave no damage in it’s wake. She pulled the hearts and spines from inside many a guard until she was drenched in their blood. Yet the skin where she yanked it from, completely unscathed with no evidence, even through armor or walls._

 

* * *

 

The rough texture of a trim beard scraped against the nape of Lena's neck. Her back straightened as she angled her head to arch her neck and shoulder to more of his lips. He gave a low chuckle.

“Are you...” His words rumbled against her skin. “...certain?” Feather light lips with his tongue slipping out to taste her tangy, sweet, and with hints of a spritz of jazmine neck. The perfume Prudence had nearly made her spray had been abandoned, in favor of drizzling tea water. Tea that she had purchased from Florian’s.

Selena’s brain stoppered as his lips played over her skin. She nodded in hopes it would be enough to urge him to continue.

It was.

He bared his teeth against her. Biting enough to redden and sting the skin, but not enough to draw blood. He pressed harder, indicated if he desired, he could bruise her. He chose not to. The pressure was soothed by the swath of his tongue and a wet kiss.  He nipped the skin until it shone flushed and wet. He slipped the rest of her dress sleeve down to further expose her whole shoulder, his other hand gathering up her hair and gripping by the roots.

“Are you certain.” Duncan’s tone was strained. His grip on her hair held her still.

“Yes, but-.” Lena wanted to get something very clear first. She seethed out, not too far gone into the sensations to speak her mind about this important detail. “Do not pull my hair.” She swallowed. While it hurt, the pressure on her scalp sent shivers down her spine. Her muscles clenching in anticipation for what else was in store. It could take a drastic turn toward pain with one wrong move.

Duncan loosened his grip on her hair. He chuckled before he lavished her shoulder in kisses. If he was to take her, then he would do so properly and take his time to enjoy the plump womanly dwarf before him.

Her chin dropped as his tongue and kisses began to search across her skin. His tongue trailed along the contours of her shoulder toward her ear.  A breath - two breaths in her ear and he shifted down, down the back of her neck. Her hair held up and away as he rubbed his face there, pinching the skin. There was too much plumpness on her for her spine to poke out, but that did not stop him from locating exactly where it was. His mouth wide as he bit and sucked. Unusual but not wholly unpleasant.

His hand gripped her uninjured shoulder, thumb pressed where the muscle had knotted tight with stress and work. He massaged it over with residual saliva from his trailing mouth. He dug his fingers deep. Lena moaned, aching for those hands to work toward the center of her back. She slouched, to encourage the procession. He corrected her posture instead.  He would have massaged the rest of her but he became preoccupied with loosening the laces of her bodice. Duncan’s hand slipped around, a cursory gentle squeeze of her bosoms and pinch of her puckered nipples moistened Lena’s thighs. She rubbed them with a whine. She turned, or attempted to.

“Not yet.” He growled. She stilled and whined again.

With the bodice loosened he was able to free her dress. His mouth trailed toward her injured shoulder. He slowed to a crawl there, careful now to pull the dress sleeve over. His fingers light over the still fresh wound. The bandages were not bloody but they could use changing. In the morning, he told himself.

With more care taken, he gave this shoulder the same treatment. Fingers massaging where knots had formed left Lena groaning mess

“Feels so good.”

“Hmmm.”

“Where’d you learn this?” She huffed. Twice had she’d gotten a massage back in her world and it was nothing like this. Not even the happy ending sort. “Certainly not from the Order?”

Duncan rumbled. “The Grey Wardens offer many opportunities for education.”

“Hmm education? Does that include _sex_ ucation?”

Duncan could hear the cheesy grin and groaned at her pun. He didn’t answer her though, because he pressed a thumb into her upper back and trailed it down along her spin, pushing the dress with it. “Pull your arms free.” He instructed.

She did as told, lips tight as she shivered once exposed. Her breast band now too tight, but she needn’t have worried for it came loose and fell in her arms.

“You’re uh quite adept at removing women’s clothing.” Lena babbled, and once again tried to turn toward him. He attacked her neck when she met his gaze, this time meaning to bruise a spot that she knew already had a bruise on it thanks to Nathaniel. She gasped, loud and tried to pull back. Hand at his ponytail but he took that opportunity to press an open mouth kiss against her.

Lena’s eyes flew wide at that. Some inside part of her screaming. Kisses were off limits! But she wasn’t hired. This wasn’t her client Sebastian. While she tried to make that distinction with Nathaniel, even he had managed to get a kiss or two.

Duncan slipped his tongue against hers, teeth followed after and scrapping. Lena jerked from her thoughts, reminded of the last time she’d brushed. But neither had he, as she could tell. Instead she tasted hints of the despair ham, grapes, and - here she wrinkled her nose - witherstalk tea. She preferred the sap added to drinks as the taste was usually washed away.

She yanked at his ponytail and he stilled, pulled back. He gave her a questioning look.

“No kissing.” Lena rasped.

“Why?” Duncan asked in earnest.

Lena blinked, reminded of the conversation she’d had about it with Sebastian so many moons ago. “Kissing denotes intimacy.”

“Are we not about to be intimate?” He asked, his tone serious.

“Yes. But kissing is different than sex.” She squirmed. She couldn’t explain it. She only had been able to get Nathaniel to stop kissing her when she looked at Sebastian. “As a prostitute, I give sex for coin and as a slut, I give it freely. But...kissing is…” She frowned, unsure how to phrase it. She loved kissing Varric, hated kissing Nathaniel, had never kissed Sebastian, but Duncan was different. She didn’t feel that same ugly twist like with Nathaniel, but likewise she still felt guilty. It was too toe curling and nice. With Nathaniel, she allowed it because it was needed, to show it was not because of Sebastian’s connections and had been as a prostitute, but this was different. Somehow, she didn’t get the feel that this was her being hired, but rather Duncan treating her - if the shoulder massage had been any indication.

“I see.” Duncan did not wait for her further explanation but smiled. He seemed to understand without much else. “I will endeavor to not kiss you.”

“On the lips!” Lena clarified with a bit of panic. “I mean you can kiss other places, just not the lips.”

His smirk and chuckle was all she needed as he then kissed her neck, soothing the earlier bruise he had overwritten with his own.

Thus far, she was topless. Her dress bunched up on her hips. Duncan was still clothed. Twisting, she reached for the buckles of his sleeves, but he grasped her hands and put them in her lap. Instead his fingers worked at them, deft and quick with professional practice. When they slipped off, she gaped as it revealed thick muscled arms covered in an intricate design of tattoos that were completely unseen whilst he wore his entire dress ware, and indeed when he wore his armor too. There was no sign of the curving tattoos. They weren’t tribal, but there were hints of that. Dark black lines with splashes of gorgeous reds, blues, teals, and purples. Rich and gorgeous images of people, places, and an oath. A winding road through it all let her eyes trail across it.

Entranced by the tattoos, she hadn’t realized she was staring now at his bare chest, where two pert nipples glinted with hooped piercings until he bent to lower his under trousers. His thick hard gut wasn’t defined with a six pack but was trained for actual muscle like a strongman.

“Woah…” Lena couldn’t help trying to stand to get a closer look at his tattoos but forgot her legs were still weak. Duncan had to still his actions to push her back on the chair.

He hovered close. “Do not try to stand, Madame.”

“Sorry, just wanted a closer view...woah.” Lena fumbled as she trailed her gaze where his smalls hung loose, a bulge that was not misleading for it was along his thigh and not in the front. _Unlike some noblemen, like Teagan._

Duncan was close. They breathed each other in, deep pools of rich bister staring into each other. He hovered close, she straightened her neck until their lips were a hair’s breath away.

Not even a few minutes and she damned herself for insisting on no kisses. _Stupid emotions._ Even though she was mad at Varric, she couldn’t. Kissing was emotional and of the heart. She couldn’t just kiss someone easily. Well she could, but she felt horrible when she did. It wasn’t something she just picked off from Vivian Ward, despite what many had assumed back home. It was a personal choice. Emotional infidelity was worse than physical, and kissing was entirely emotional for her.

“Distracted?” Duncan asked as he sunk to his knees.

“I…” Lena swallowed. She stared at his lips, wanting to know what they tasted like again. “I uh…” She knew it wouldn’t taste sweet or minty, with no trace of wine. Her throat felt tight. And where Duncan smelled musky, it was the scent of a warrior on the roar. Varric’s earthy tones, the scent of parchments, fire, and ink drifted across her memory. Duncan’s arms were thick with muscle but they were too slim, and while the tattoos were fascinating they weren’t Varric’s.

“Madame?” Duncan inched closer. The witherstalk tea was more noticeable with the gruff huff.

“I have someone…” She muttered and cringed. This was not how she did things. “Sorry I don’t this is so unlike me.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

The rush of cold air between them, had her peeking out to see Duncan smiling. His hand came up to brush her hair back.

“The wine.” He sighed as though it explained everything.

“You’re kidding?” Lena groaned, her head in her hands as she gave a muffled groan.

“It intensifies feelings.” Duncan reminded.

“Including emotional.” Lena groaned into her hands.

“I understand if you’d rather we stop.” Duncan was up on his feet.

“No!” She pitched her voice high, almost whining. One of Duncan’s brows rose and Lena wanted to throw herself back. “Yeah… we should.” She sighed.

It was an awkward moment as he turned to grant her privacy. She dressed and he tied his trousers back up.

“I appreciate your attempt.” Duncan tried to lift her spirits, but it was in poor taste as she couldn’t exactly stand.

“Ugh.” Lena shook her head in her hands again. “What kind of prostitute am I, that I can’t even separate my emotions?” She griped into her hands. “I swear this has _never_ happened. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Aquae lucidus is a potent wine.”

“Yeah no kidding.” Lena rubbed her face.

With a moment of rest and enough space between them, she was able to get up on her own two feet again. _Should have listened to Denier and Dip._ Lena mumbled as she slipped her boots on, the dagger placed into her bodice again. _Should have never touched the wine_. Lena shoved the papers of formulas into her bag.

Duncan had disappeared into his bed chambers. Bed chambers that Lena stared longingly at as she gathered herself and her accoutrements. Things were still quite hazy and sensitive. Each brush of cloth was distracting, the night breeze through the open window cooled her flushed skin, and though there wasn’t many candelabras lit, she could see well in the dark.

She was set to leave, even with the door open when Duncan came out, approaching her with a small purse.

“I must thank you for your insights, even if...we could not proceed with your particular professional skills.” Duncan held out the small purse. “I believe this should be sufficient pay, nonetheless?”

The purse was heavy and Lena’s brows rose. He was paying her? It was heavy, and she opened it to stare at the ten gold coins.

Understanding dawned. She blamed the wine to why she couldn’t make the distinction before. Before, she was living out a fantasy. An emotional one. Duncan had been the very first male character in the game she had crushed on. That was before Varric had grew on her. But Duncan of the game was just a wish fulfillment, an emotional attachment and she felt guilty for it. But here he was, a person and - and this was the most important part - a paying _customer._

Dropping the purse into her bag, she faced Duncan with a smile. Like a mental switch, she reached up to his chest gripping the light tunic he had thrown on. He let her drag him down where her mouth pressed to his, hot but she was detached.

Yes. She enjoyed it. Yes, she still felt the knotted guilt for the kiss, but she was able to do her job then. And if she took a little special enjoyment from Duncan ensuring she was relaxed before the main event - so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING FINALLY, the end of this freaking night has happened. GOSH. This has taken me ages but this was a VERY important night and I NEEDED to get it right. 
> 
> I've been slowly building up Athenril's backstory. You'll notice some call backs to some earlier hints. The blue tattoos, the scar across her chest, and her previously being the "left hand" of Harlan. Now if that is what is he considers his "left" hand, what do you think he was gonna do (and still might) with Lena to maker her his right hand? Let that sink in.


	49. Chateau Haine, 3rd Day pt1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of the third day of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. The hangover of Thedosian ecstasy and the archery tourney!

It was the five o'clock bell that woke her up the first time. The Chapel’s bells weren’t loud but enough to disturb her sleep, or what little she got.  She was eventually roused from her slumber when Lena heard footsteps in the room. Bleary eyed and cautious, she stared at the servant picking up the clothing strewn about the room. With a twist of his fingers, the garments unwrinkled as he hung them on a hanger in the wardrobe.

Magical servants. She suspected as much in Sebastian’s quarters but now she knew for certain. Hypocritical of the nobility to allow mages to be free only under their employ or service, but allow no other way. Or the Chantry gave Duke Full-of-Shit permission to have such magical servants. Nonetheless it piqued her interest enough to sit up.

With only an hour and half of sleep in her, she was functional but coherent enough to form a complete thought. At least until a warm hand snaked around her waist. It pulled her back down into the chest of one Warden Commander Duncan.

“Here I thought, I wore you out.” He murmured into her hair.

She groaned because he had worn her right out. Her body was sore in places she’d never been. She’d had to strain to hold herself up to fuck his cock. It’d been a workout she hadn’t anticipated for the length of time it went on for. Her arms ached, her thighs trembled, and even her feet had cramped up at one point. Yet he kept her aloft, driving into her like he had all the time in the world. And he had. Ten gold… ten fucking gold and he had her the whole night, for as long as he needed. But now it was morning.

She needed to get back to her room to clean up. The night’s activities left her covered in sweat and cum that no doubt had dried on and in her. But Duncan had other plans.

“Ugh…” She grunted as his fingers pushed into the muscles that were most sore. It hurt for the moment but all good things hurt the first time until the release bloomed from the massage. She sighed as he worked her arms and then pinned her underneath. His mouth working against hers and knee pushing her legs apart.

The great thing about her being plus sized, was that she didn’t need to be lifted to let her male customers pound into her. No prop pillow under her as her arse was big enough to offer all the lift and cushion. The phrase more cushion for the pushing was more than in effect for her and Duncan made full use of it.

“What even is your recovery time…” Lena grunted as he slipped into her sopping wet heat. It wasn’t wet because she was aroused, oh no. This was Duncan’s leftover spunk that still filled her.

“I’m a Grey Warden.” He grinned against her lips. He took his time enjoying her to the fullest. While she may not have orgasmed more than three times that entire night, she lasted as long as he did. The slow working build up of thrusts and a patient thumb at her snatch, plus his mouth tasting every inch of her. Her fingers pulled on his loose hair paired with the undulating motion of her clenching core kept them worked up through the night.

It was enjoyable and a workout. It reminded Lena of the only ex who had ever kept up with her. It took hours for them to get off right and proper as they enjoyed sex and foreplay. Lets just say their quickies usually lasted at minimum an hour. And that was them hurrying to get each other off as quick as possible.

But even a Grey Warden was beyond Lena, but she kept up far better than most Thedosians. Duncan was beyond pleased. He'd been worried when she opted to take him on as a customer she would work herself off first but no, she did her due diligence to ensure he was satisfied.

Two hours later Lena woke again. This time even fuller than she had been before and hungrier than ever. She was going to suffer a urinary tract infection for not emptying her bladder before sleeping. If the leaking juices seeping out of her to the mattress was any indication. It was cold and wet. Cold because the window had remained open the entire night.

The sound of distant bells reached her half asleep state as she watched the rising sun’s light fill the room. A burst of wind sent her shivering.

There was a reason why she was waking this early, instead of sleeping in and taking advantage of not having to work during the day or make appearances. She couldn’t place why.

Another hour she lay there. She could hear Duncan’s breath besides. It tickled her shoulder. His arm draped around her was warm. She glanced at the tattoos that adorned him. She blamed it and his close proximity to why she couldn’t sleep. She could never sleep in bed with someone pressed close to her. The overabundance of heat was too much and left her sweating.

Duncan was tight against her, tight enough that she knew he was sporting a bit of morning wood. At least when Sebastian, Nathaniel, and her had shared the bed, they respected her need for distance and gave her enough space. Sure they went to sleep cuddled, but she squirmed and pushed them a decent distance so cool air circulated between them. She almost missed Sebastian’s consideration-

 _Sebastian_.

Her eyes popped wide open. _The archery tourney!_

“Fu-” She rasped and squirmed out from under Duncan’s arm, or rather tried to. Her entire body ached as she moved. Deep pangs of pain that brought forth a moan followed by a chuckle of pleasure. _Yeah, I got fucked good._ She eyed Duncan. He was awake and watching her with amusement.

“I have to-” She tried to make out as she stood up but dropped to the floor with how weak her legs were. “FUCK!” She swore and regretted it as her head swam and clanged with pain. “Oh fuck me.”

“Again?” Duncan chuckled as she sat up to peer over the side of the bed. “I am more than capable, but perhaps you should rest.”

“No! No more… I am never taking you as a client again.” Lena squinted at him.

“Pity.”

“At least not at Chateau Haine.” Lena corrected at his smirk. She clambered up, her legs shaking and thighs drenched with cum that had spilled from inside her. She held on to the bed for balance.  “Because I’ve got responsibilities… things. Uh… “ Her mind trailed off as she looked around. Everything was brighter than it should be. “Ugh…” She rubbed her eyes and wobbled to the wardrobe to pull her dress on. Everything was still a bit fuzzy in her senses. Vision blurred, cotton mouthed, and goosebumps constantly raising and falling with the morning wind.

“Do you need assistance?” Duncan now asked with a hint of concern.

“Nope. I… ugh, bag… things.” She blinked as she didn’t bother tying her dress, or even brushing her hair back. She needed to get to her room and change clothes, Sebastian was waiting for her. _Don’t forget the arrow._ She reminded herself.

Stumbling with purpose she managed to pull on her boots by leaning against the wall and struggling with the laces. After the fourth time her fingers fumbled, Duncan chuckled from the bed.

He stood as he pulled on a pair of trousers. His at half mast uncut cock distracted her because she didn’t remember seeing a Prince Albert last night.  Only here they called it something else, which she couldn’t remember.

“Do all Rivaini get their genitals pierced?” Her filter was gone. Duncan snorted. “I swear. I met this Rivaini pirate, her clit was pierced too. So was her tongue,and nipples. I don’t remember, is your tongue pierced?” She tilted her head to peer at his nipples where they were not pierced. He knelt to tie her laces for her.

“It is, but I removed it.” He answered.

“Why?”

“It would be improper to have it displayed amongst nobility and royalty.” Duncan explained.  “And most southern women don’t find it all that attractive.”

“Oh but they find your cock piercing attractive?”

“If they get that far usually they’re less than perturbed by it due to my...” Here Duncan looked at his hands.

“They only sleep with you because of your skin?” Lena frowned.

Duncan shrugged. “And because I am a Grey Warden.”

Lena grumbled. “So much more to you than just that.”

“Are you saying you didn’t for the same reason?”

“I’m a prostitute, Duncan. It’s my job. And you paid me. Even if you hadn’t, and I didn’t have a...” Lena’s brain halted as she thought of Varric. “L-loved one.  I would have anyway.” she stuttered. “Though if I am honest, I will say I took you on for a very specific reason.” She snickered.

“Oh?”

“You’re a rogue.” Lena answered. “You lot tend to be great with your fingers.”

Duncan chuckled.

Lena snickered and reached down to her bag, catching sight of the table full of papers. Last nights conversations filtered back to her in bits and pieces. She waddled to the table, her entire body clenched to keep certain fluids inside, and began stuffing her bag with papers of formulas and diagrams.

“Once we depart from the Chateau, I shall visit your workshop in Kirkwall.” Duncan said as he entered the water closet to relieve himself.

“Oh?” Lena had to wrack her mind. She did remember continuing the conversation about commissions in bed.

“Yes. I find your concepts intriguing. If possible I would like to see a demonstration.” Duncan smiled.

“A….demonstration?” Her eyes popped wide.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No. Uh. I just have to run it by my business partner first.”

“Very well. King Cailan and I will be remaining at the Chateau until next week. I hope that will be enough time?”

“Yep.” Lena swore up and down in her head. It wasn't enough time. They only had a small sample of rubber that she was using as a tiny prototype for tires. She'd have to convince Bianca to let her use the rest of the sap for this. They can always buy more at the marked up price while Bianca had representatives setting up the farm in Tevinter. They would have to for a few years anyway while the trees grow.

“Get some rest, Madame.” Duncan smiled as she stepped out only for both of them to still upon seeing King Cailan with his hand raised as if to grasp the knob and open the door.

“Your majesty.” Duncan’s tone sharpened to one of seriousness. “Is there something wrong?” This was unusual for the King to come looking for him instead of sending someone else. What could be so important?

Lena’s back stiffened.  It was unthinkable to be as dirty and unkempt as she was and be standing in front of King Cailan, yet here she was. She desperately wanted to run to her room but that would be even more rude. So she simply gave a curt bow.

“Good morning, Your majesty.” She mumbled.

“Ah good morrow, Selena.” Cailan’s gaze trailed over her before pinning a knowing smirk at Duncan. “I was simply worried as to why you didn’t join us for morning tea? But I can see, you were…” Cailan gave Selena a beaming smile. “Preoccupied. I trust then you are well rested?”

If she had any shame, Lena would have blushed red but she merely gave Cailan a shit eating grin and rocked on her heels. Which turned out to be a bad idea as she had to grip the doorframe to keep her balance.

“Ah.” Duncan shot Lena an apologetic smile. “Yes quite so. I apologize, I hadn't realized the time.”

“No matter, no matter.” Cailan waved it off. “Will you be joining us for the Chant before the Tourney?”

“Of course, your majesty.” Duncan nodded.

“And you Madame? Will you join us as well?” Cailan smiled at her but there was a twinkle of humor in his gaze.

“Ah…I will have to regretfully decline, your majesty.” Lena bumbled out. Going to the chantry as she was right then? No. Nope. Never in a million years. She still knew how to present herself and she wouldn’t as she was now. “If you’ll excuse me.” She slipped away, careful of her bag and her wobbly legs.

Cailan and Duncan watched her exit the Keep before turning to each other, Cailan with a cocky smirk.

“Are you pleased you _came_ now?”

Duncan let out a low groan, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he retreated back to his room.

“Oh come now!” Cailan laughed, following Duncan.

 

* * *

 

The sun was already up, peaking over the horizon and shining brightly with no cloud coverage. A great day to spend outside, if it wasn't for the after effects of the wine from last night. She navigated out of the Keep, sticking to the walls as her legs weren't still fully functional.

With the light of the sun bearing down, Lena had to squint. Her head pounded as she crossed the relatively empty courtyard. Sticking to the bushes until she made it to the outside tower. She dragged her feet most of the way and was swaying by the time she came upon her door. She stumbled into the shared room, halting when she caught Athenril with a pile of bandages and her shirt off as she dabbed poultice over her arm from a jar.

“Hey…” Lena stared. Athenril glanced at her with dark bags under her eyes in a dead look. Her body tense until recognition cleared the fog in her gaze and she relaxed. “Are you okay?” Lena asked while taking a seat. Athenril fixed Lena with a stare. “Right, stupid question. Course you’re not.” Lena reached for the jar of poultice on the table to help but Athenril stiffened, so she set it back down.

It was quiet. The air thick with an emotion Lena couldn’t place but from the look Athenril was sending her, she’d hazard a guess as confused mistrust.

“If you need to talk…” Lena posed.

Athenril’s gaze held a question, her mouth opened but she sighed and looked away to tend to her arm.  Lena could see blood around the edges of where the poultice lay. Lena waited.

It took a few minutes but the elven coterie finally worked up to speak again.

“Why am I here?” Athenril muttered.

“Because I hired you.” Lena answered.

Athenril grit her teeth but clarified. “Why did you pick me? I tried to kill you.”

“And you failed.” Lena shrugged.

Athenril scoffed. “Why?”

Puffing her cheeks she blew air out and then shrugged. “I told you. You were only trying to kill me because you wanted to hide your indiscret-”

“No!.” Athenril slammed her right fist on the table. “That’s not why I wanted to kill you.”

_“Kirkwall is her home. She’d never-” He wheezed and coughed. “-never let another monster in.”_

_“I’m not…a monster.”_

_“Aren’t you?” Brekker continued laughing._

_“I can’t have two Harlans in Kirkwall. One is enough.”_

“I’m not Harlan.” Lena spoke with a lifted chin. “I’m... _not_ a monster.”

“So you picked me to what, prove that to me?” Athenril raised her voice. “Is that what this is? Just a way to prove you’re better than Harlan.”

“No.” Lena answered.

“Then why? WHY?” Athenril slammed her fist down again, it shook and for a moment her arm glowed in patches not covered by the poultice.

Lena caught the sight of blue and something in her stirred. Deep, dangerous, tall and wide. The earth shifted around them. She turned her head sharp to the left, the resounding crack resonating in her bones and she released a tonal droning hum to dial back the call.

Athenril looked around, shaken as the draperies stopped moving.

“My mother taught me…” Lena dropped the pitch of her voice and her mouth puckered and throat expanded. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” She enunciated each word with a heavy New Yorker Brooklyn accent. An accent that was completely lost on Athenril who stared at her not in humor, but in shock with a brief flash of horror. At her look, Lena laughed hearty and bodily. Her head flung back. “Sorry, just your face. Priceless.” She held her hands out, creating a frame with her pointer fingers and thumbs and captured Athenril’s face in the frame.

Athenril didn’t find it funny. “I could still kill you. I can do it right now.”

Lena sobered, her heart beating fast. But it was always beating fast nowadays. “You could.” Lena leaned her hands on the table and gave Athenril her most pleasant smile, the sort she used to give customers when she worked retail. Placating and with a forced quality to it. “But you won’t.”

“You don’t know that.” Athenril seethed.

“You’re right.” She sat back. “I don’t.”

“You’re a fool.”

“So you think I’m a fool.” Lena shrugged with a smile. “A friend should always underestimate your virtues and an enemy overestimate your faults."

Athenril scowled.

“Good talk.” Lena stood up and walked away. “I’ve got to get to the archery tourney. You look like you need to rest so get some while you can.” She stepped into the room and then ducked back out. “By the way, I never said I was better than Harlan.” At Athenril’s eye widening, Lena slipped back to her room.

With quick movements she stripped off the her dress, put away the money she made into her lockbox along with her papers, and gave herself a quick wipe down with a cloth and water. She was pulling off her bandage when Dopey poked out from under the bed.

“Look at my precious little spidey.” She cooed as Dopey scaled her naked leg to her shoulder. It made a clicking sound at her wound, shifting around it as though examining it. “Don’t worry a thing about that. Just a little… uh… just a little bite.” She frowned as the spider turned around and pointed it’s butt at the wound. “Uh… please don’t shit on my wound.” Instead of shit however, spider milk came out and Dopey moved back and forth over the wound, covering it in fresh webbing.

“Umm….what??” Lena’d eyes bugged out as the webbing was far more flush to her skin than the bandages had ever been. “I… I guess that's okay. Weird, where the fuck did you even learn that?” She gave the small spider a scritch on its underbelly when the 8th bell sounded.

The tourney would be starting after the Chant. Cursing, Lena dashed to the chamberpot and emptied her bowels, using her own private rag to clean herself and the bowl of water to make sure all of Duncan’s leftovers were out.

There was only one outfit in her wardrobe. _Prudence at it again._ Lena pulled the dress down and paused as she caught a glance at the single splash of color for the entire ensemble. A patterned sash in black, red, and grey to offset the black of the dress. On top of that, the dress itself wasn’t even fully a dress. It was a skirt. A skirt that would reach her mid thighs. A Thedosian _miniskirt_. There were stark white stockings to go with it and no under shirt. Which made sense as the short skirted dress exposed her shoulders, neck, and pressed her breasts to give ample cleavage. But it was dark and made her already pale skin, even paler in comparison.

“Ugh, whatever.” she pulled it all on. She tied her hair back into a bun with a red ribbon bow and plopped Dopey on top, who crawled down to the back of her neck. Not at all worrying about feeling eight legs on the back of her neck. She was one foot toward the door when she doubled back to her belongings and grabbed the arrow Sebastian had given her. She stuck it through her bun as she stepped out of her room.  

“Where are you going?” Athenril sat up where she had slumped into the couch.

“To the archery Tourney. I promised Sebastian I would go.” Lena said as she crossed to the door. Athenril stood up, pulling on her shirt and grasping her daggers. “Uh where do you think you're going?” Lena eyed her.

“You still brought me here for a reason. I intend to fulfill it.” Athenril snapped.

“Oh no. I can manage without you just fine for the morning.” Lena shook her head. “You just stay and sleep till you're well rested. You look like you need it.”

“I-l”

“That wasn't a request. It was an order.” Lena beamed a genuine smile at her and snapped the door shut, leaving Athenril stock still.

She stared at the closed door as the words churned in her. Her teeth grit as she fought the urge to comply, to obey, to do as _ordered_ . Lena’s influence squeeze her soul and spirit. She'd had no intention of following the order. She fought it as it squeezed harsher. Whispers building into a singsong cacophony that urged her to behave. _Stay, sleep, rest._

On any normal day, she would have bulldozed her way against the strict order from Harlan. The pain on flesh was easy enough to ignore. But what did you do when the pain was mental? Emotional? Spiritual?

_Stay, sleep, rest._

Athenril heaved a harsh breath as sweat dripped down her brow. She sat down and the melody changed, clanging _sleep rest._ She lay down on the couch, eyes closed as her body obeyed. Her left arm thrown over her eyes as the singing changed again. _Rest. Rest._ It droned into a noise she barely registered as her body obeyed.

 

* * *

 

Sebastian’s gaze trailed over the crowd gathered. The archery range had long been set up while the Chant was held and now spectators were arriving. The Archery Tourney was always held before the sun could rise too high to be a hindrance. And it would be as the day held few clouds prompting some of the onlookers to pull parasols and pitch tents to watch the tourney.

But that wasn’t what drew Sebastian’s gaze. No, he was looking for Lena. He had given her one of his arrows as a present, but it hinged on her arriving here so he could win the Tourney in her honor.

“What’s the matter Chantry Boy?”

Sebastian paid the question no mind. It was from one of the other competitors, known for trying to worm his way into your mind, play tricks and intimidate. It was forbidden in the rules of the tourney but he had a way to not seem threatening.

“Getting nervous, are you?” The lout continued as he slid his fingers down the bow, firing off a quick practice shot.

“No.” He muttered before turning to his quiver and his grandfather’s bow. He wore not the robes of the Chantry, nor the Starkhaven armor but rather clothes befitting of a nobleman. He was representing his family.

Nathaniel was next to him replacing his bow’s string. His shirt off showing off the expanse of twisting muscles on his back, highlighted by scratch marks and bites on his shoulders. Faint purple bruises from last night had him frown.

“Did you see Madame Lena this last evening?” Sebastian questioned as he tested his own bowstring.

“Aye.” Nathaniel answered, his brow furrowed in concentration as he finished. He drew the string back to test it and let loose. Listening to the twang of the string. All things Sebastian had already done prior to the Chant.

“And?” He prodded.

“She intruded on my pleasures with one of the serving girls. After that she disappeared with that Grey Warden fellow. What was his name?”

“Duncan?” Sebastian recalled the Grey Warden.

“That is the one.”

Sebastian turned back to the crowd, worrying his lip. Had she indeed been blighted? Is that why she went with him? Was his Mama Lena about to be recruited into the Grey Wardens? He should have stuck close with her last night. Especially after the Wyvern Hunt. She’d been looking especially pale.

The tourney was called to commence the qualifying flight. Non participants were asked to step back from the range. The Tourney itself was broken into several flights of challenge. The first was the qualifying. All participants had to shoot at short range and score ten points minimum. They had two arrows to accomplish such. If more than two scored ten, then the highest two scores would carry on.  

There were a total of 58 participants. All Kirkwaller born or citizens of Kirkwall. Sebastian was a citizen of Kirkwall.  Participants ranged from commoners to Royal. Anyone who could show they knew how to shoot a bow could enter.

Ten archers were lined up at the range. With two arrows given to each with specific colors assigned. Sebastian was given a red one. Naturally those of royalty and noble birth were assigned colors according to their family colors. Those of less prestigious birth were given the leftovers.

The first line of archers was composed entirely with those of common birth. People who managed to drum up enough coin to pay the entrance fee and showed skill enough to enter. In most tourneys, the first line of archers rarely made it past the long distance. Longbows were weapons of nobility and royalty. Short bows were more readily available to merchants but hardly commoners. And those that did, the bows were usually less than sufficient.

But sometimes if a commoner made it past the first line, nobles and royalty would not mind sponsoring some of the more skilled ones. Even if they didn’t win the tourney, they could sometimes be hired on as private guards or even recommended to the Kirkwall militia or the City Guard. More often than not, Mercenary companies would take them under their wing. It was steady pay that would be sent back to their families.

Sebastian didn’t usually watch the first line or the second, but he did then. If only to remain standing so he could occasionally cast his gaze to perhaps catch sight of Lena.

There were ten archer, only two would make it to the next flight.

Almost all of them were nothing to look at. Mercenaries who made Kirkwall their home, or Darktown runts with a haphazardly made short bow. There was even one drunk who had trouble stringing their bow. Once they did they seemed fine to point the bow, up until the arrow waned off its resting point as they pinched it against the string. Their shoulders swayed to and fro and the arrow fell. The small morning crowd laughed as they bent down to grab it, their long tunic flapping over their head.

“You’ve got to be joking.”  Yhennifer Bowens rose from her spot to watch. Lady Bowens was cousin to the Dumars. Originally from the mercantile class that was raised to nobility when Marlowe was appointed.

“Unbelievable.” Nathaniel stood next to him with a shake of his head. “He’s utterly drunk.”

“He’s going to shoot his bloody eye out.” Lord Selbrech scoffed as he turned back to a plate of food.

“Never underestimate a drunkard’s aim.” Sebastian smirked, remembering how accurate he used to be when under the drink.

“My lords and lady, any bets for the first flight?” The bookie came round.

Nathaniel nudged Sebastian, indicating the coins exchanging hands on the friendly wager.

It was generally discouraged for archers participating to bet as some had bet they would lose and then intentionally loss. But it was acceptable so long as it wasn’t your own flight. Yet there were ways around it of course.

Sebastian refrained from engaging in the bet.

“Nothing?” Nathaniel squinted at his friend. “Not even a friendly wager?”

“Well we have our own private wager, do we not?” Sebastian smirked as Nathaniel’s ear tips became pink.

“Incorrigible.”

“I’m not the one who told Lena about it.” Sebastian chuckled.

Once coins were exchanged, the bookie left to collect the bets from the other lines and the crowd. The Range Master whistled to call everyone’s attention as he explained the rules. Everyone who scored a ten would qualify. If there was no scores of ten, then the highest scorer would move on. Once done he called for the archers to shoot.

Sebastian watched, mentally correcting their stances and finger placements. He shook his head when the first archer didn’t account for the variance of wind and their arrow veered initially and pierced the target at a three. They corrected for the second arrow and got an eight. The second archer got a seven the first go. Quite impressive right until his second arrow only dinged the outer ring. The third and fifth were disqualified with scores of four and six. The fourth barely managed a two in total. As did the sixth, and seventh. The eight couldn’t even hit the target at all. The arrows fell short. Not enough draw or perhaps their string wasn’t as taut as it should be. The ninth archer’s bow fell apart when he attempted to draw and was promptly disqualified. And there was the tenth. The “drunken” one who hadn’t even shot their first arrow was poised to shoot but hadn’t yet.

The crowd murmured waiting when the Range Master stomped over. The drunk jumped, letting loose his arrow. The crowd was too busy laughing at him to notice. The Range Master grumbled about him having been asleep on his feet.  

There were scoffs around Sebastian as they disregarded the drunk. But Sebastian hadn’t. No he was staring at the target.  He hadn’t taken his eyes off it once the drunk let loose the arrow and remained still as the arrow had hit the center bullseye.

It took a few seconds for everyone else to catch up with what had happened but the crowd silenced. The Range Master took a look and called out the score. “Ten!” He did a double take at the drunk archer who was nocking another arrow when one of the other archers told him he didn’t have to.

The second line of archers was fairly uneventful. Two archers advanced from the mercantile class. One was a dwarf, the other a human. The third line was all sons of merchants. Only one advanced. The fourth line was filled with minor nobles. It was close as three archers all score fourteen. But only those with with shots as close to the bullseye were advanced.

The fifth line was the one he and Nathaniel were in. At that point there was a much larger crowd. The stands were filled up and money was exchanging hands as he stepped up to the line. He only needed one arrow for this. He nocked his arrow on its rest, drew his string and took aim, waiting for the wind to settle before-

“WOO YEA SEBASTIAN!” Came a familiar yell over the crowd. His finger stilled before he could let loose the arrow. His cheeks pinked and he cast his gaze to the crowd to find where the voice was, only to spy a familiar white arrow waving in the air with a bit cloth attached to it like a flag.  Other members of the crowd had turned toward the dwarfess in curiosity and then humor, laughing as she waved her makeshift flag in support.

“Maker’s breath!” Sebastian swore as he shook his head. But he couldn’t help but smile as she was indeed there and his earlier worry subsided. He turned back to the range and pulled the string back on his bow and let loose. He got a perfect bullseye. There was another whoop from Lena and some clapping. Her enthusiasm was infectious apparently as others around her clapped with her, laughing. Whether in ridicule of her or celebration of the bullseye, Sebastian couldn’t tell but he imagined Lena didn’t care either way.  

“Is that Lena?” Nathaniel asked as they stepped back from the line. Three of their line had gotten ten, but only He and Sebastian had gotten a perfect bullseye. Sebastian had trained him well.

“Aye it is.” Sebastian chuckled. “She seems to be _very_ enthusiastic.”

“She’s flying your family’s colors.” Nathaniel rose one brow.

“I am aware.” Sebastian smirked.

“Is that one of your arrows?” Nathaniel then looked to Sebastian’s quiver. “You gave her one of your arrows?”

“Aye. I will win the tourney with that there arrow she’s holding.” Sebastian boasted.

“You’re mad.” Nathaniel sighed. “And if you should lose?”  

“Won’t that be interesting if I lost?” Sebastian’s coy smile lit up his face as the qualifying archers were called forward. He stepped up with Nathaniel to his side.

The next flight was long range. They had 6 arrows to get the highest score possible. This is where a longbow came in handy.

He glanced at the other archers, noting the drunk one was now pulling out a knotted wood longbow from his ruddy sack and stringing it. It was more ornamental than functional. If Sebastian didn’t know better he would say it was a bow made from a branch. The drunk’s body swayed and stumbled but his fingers were precise.

Sebastian bumped his shoulder to Nathaniel’s. He gestured toward the “drunk’s” feet which were firmly planted. If he was really drunk those would be shuffling and having difficulty staying grounded. Nathaniel furrowed his brow.

“It’s all for show. Probably making good on some bets for some friends?” Nathaniel suggested.

“I don’t know.” Sebastian frowned. If there was cheating suspected he would have to report it to the Tourney Master. Though how would he prove the man was cheating unless they were intentionally losing. He’d have to watch out.

The targets were prepared, being taken exactly two hundred yards away. There were some that were further of course. Almost as far as two hundred fifty but those were the limits even the best longbow could reach in prime conditions.

The Range Master explained what this flight was to the crowd and then added a note to “Please keep quiet until all arrows have been let loose.” With a pointed look at Lena.

Sebastian snickered as she raised her middle finger once the Range Master turned his back to signal when archers should shoot.

Sebastian took his time. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched others aiming to get all bullseyes from the targets at 150 to 200 yards away. Nathaniel however was aiming directly for 200 yards or more. He noticed one other had stilled, waiting to watch the others go before them.

Taking a step back he eyed the drunk archer, their form precise as now everyone was watching the range itself. They were distracted. Not Sebastian. The clothes the drunk wore were loose. Most archers wore tight fitted clothing to prevent it catching on anything.

“Right, there is something fishy about that archer,” he mumbled and stepped back to the line. Pulling his string as far back as he thought he needed. The muscles in his back rippled with strain as he held the string back and took aim. He aimed for the furthest target.

Score nine at two hundred fifty yards. He’d been aiming for the bullseye.

The other archers stopped. One archer waited until he let loose his second arrow and when it hit the bullseye at two-hundred fifty yards he set his bow down and walked away, muttering he knew when he was beat.  

Nathaniel grumbled beside him, “Show off.” He nocked his own bow and aimed for another target at the same distance as Sebastian. It was an eight. But even he knew he wasn’t going to match score for score with Sebastian as he had already let loose two arrows into a target at 220 yards, both were ten but he knew that distance counted favorably.

Sebastian let loose his third arrow and got his second ten. Nathaniel got a nine. The drunk got a ten and two nines in a row. Nathaniel got a seven and swore. Sebastian paused to look at his friend.

“Calm yourself, take your time. This isn’t a speed contest.” He muttered to Nathaniel “Your form is off, put your weight in your heel and brace your weight against it. Remember to breath.” Sebastian used to be his instructor, teaching him to improve his archery long.  

Nathaniel nodded and adjusted his stance. He pulled back and got an 8. Sebastian sighed, put his bow down and stepped behind Nathaniel. He pressed flushed against Nathaniel’s back and shifted his arms. “Loosen yourself.” He whispered in his ear. “Pull back with a breath in, ignore the pain in your back.” Sebastian felt Nathaniel’s back muscles ripple and for a moment, a pang of wanting heat settled in his abdomen. He ignored it. “Aim… thats it. Pick your target.” Once he knew Nathaniel was recentered and was aiming he stepped back and away to let him fire. He got a ten. “There you go.”

“Still won’t beat you.” Nathaniel sighed and set his bow down.

“Maybe next time.” Sebastian looked to the drunk archer who was waiting for him to continue. They were both at three arrows spent. From what he could tell he was in the lead. But that could change. The other archers had already backed away, conceding defeat. He picked up his bow.

He waited for the Drunkard to go as he readjusted his stance and rolled his shoulders before pulling back. He heard them scoff and then let loose an arrow. They got a ten.

He aimed. It was a nine. Well at least they were tied for now.

Nocking another arrow, he looked at them, watching as they too did the same. “One.” He muttered just loud enough for them to hear.

“Two.” Came a raspy reply.

“Three.” They said and they both let loose, to concerned with watching each other to really aim.

They both got eight. The silence in the range was tense. The crowd released a breath. One more arrow.

It was clear they were both advancing to the next round but now it was a matter of pride and rules to use that last arrow.

Sebastian nocked the arrow.

He breathed in and aimed. As did they.

Sebastian took a moment to look at Nathaniel who smiled at him. He turned to the stands and caught Lena waving her makeshift flag with a bright smile from the top. He glanced at the drunk who watched him, waiting. He gave a nod and let his arrow fly at the same time as them.

He didn’t look away from them once the arrow was let loose. He couldn’t make out much on the drunk. Their hair in curly tufts and their hood drawn over their eyes but he saw them smile wide. Sharp canine teeth flashing in the morning light.

The crowd erupted and Sebastian could hear the loudest of them all was Lena. Even as far away as she was.

“GO SEBASSY! YEAH YEA SEBASSY. HE SO CLASSY! YEAH YEAH SEBASSY! GO SEBASSY!”  Lea’s cheer chant seemed to pick up easily in the stands and a small number of them were chanting it with her, in between laughter.  

“Maker’s breath…” He sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

The Range Master announced they would advance to the next flight.  Sebastian walked toward the drunk who clearly wasn’t and held his hand out. They shook hands and went back to the archer’s tent to rest while the range was reset, arrows collected and off to be sharpened.

“What is she chanting?” Nathaniel stared at the stands.

“I have no idea.” Sebastian shook his head with a laugh as he caught lena teaching those around her some sort of clapping rhythm. “She’s quite full of energy today.”

“It would seem so.” Nathaniel added and then looked at Sebastian. The two on the same page as lascivious thoughts were reflected in their gaze. “Perhaps she’d like to see the swimming pool after this?”

“Only after luncheon.” Sebastian sighed as he plucked a few grapes from a table. “I imagine she will be ravenous. Lena always has a large appetite.”

“Ravenous you say?” Came a graveled voice.

Sebastian’s back stiffened as he turned to view Lord Harlan La Foix and Lady Johane Harimann. Two of his family’s closest friends. Harlan he knew much more intimately than the Harimann due to his patronage at the Rose. And only during auctions, of which he hasn’t had to attend in quite some months. Harlan gave him an appraising look.

“Sebastian, my what an impressive performance.” Lady Harimann smiled. “Your parents will be proud I’m sure.”

“Aye. How are you Lady Harimann?” He gave a small bow, etiquette pulling at him. “Lord La Foix. Are you enjoying the start to the Tourney?”  

“Immensely. Who is your friend here?” Lady Harimann gestured.

“Oh pardon my manners. This is my long time friend, Nathaniel Howe.”

“Your father is Rendon, correct?” Lady Harimann asked.

“Yes, House Howe of Ferelden.”

“How peculiar.  Is your father quite proud of how far you made it in the tourney?” Harlan asked.

“Probably not if I’m to be honest. Though I doubt he cares.” Nathaniel spoke plainly.

“Why is that?”

“I’m meant to be studying to become a Chevalier, not an archer. This was just a-”

“Momentary diversion?” Harlan interrupted.

“Yes. You could say that.” Nathaniel agreed with narrowed eyes.

Harlan smirked and then whispered something to Lady Harimann. “If you’ll excuse us, we wish to congratulate the other archer.”

Sebastian watched them go. His suspicions high when around Harlan. Especially after he’d seen him treat Lena at the auction. At knife point she agreed to it. He remembered that clearly and felt guilty he hadn’t considered the other girls of the Rose might have been treated the same. The rumors of Harlan were wild and he hadn’t considered them true until that day. And now… he worried Lena was in danger.

“So who is he really?”

“He owns the Blooming Rose.” Sebastian muttered.

“Ah… that explains why you’ve gone entirely too tense.” Nathaniel poked his shoulder and back. “He owns your Lena.”

“She isn’t-” Sebastian snapped to correct but stopped at Nathaniel’s self satisfied smirk.

“You care so much for her. I refuse to believe you two are merely friends.”

“Well you’ll have to come to terms with it.” Sebastian smiled as he looked out to the stands again, watching as Lena was no longer stamping her feet and cheering. He spied her staring up at the sky, the sun reflecting off her pale skin brilliantly.

 _She’s too pale._ Again his worry for her health came to the forefront of his mind. He would be sure to get her a large meal and perhaps an elfroot potion after this.

“Is not Lena representing the Blooming Rose?” Nathaniel asked.

“She is.”

“And he still came? With Lady Harimann?”

“If you wish to engage in gossip.” Sebastian gave him a look.

“It’s just odd. Why would he ask Lena to represent him and the Rose.”

“That man’s motivations are a mystery to many in Kirkwall.” Sebastian sighed. “I would hazard a guess it’s the latest rumor of him and Lady Harimann's infidelity." He whispered to Nathaniel.

“No!” Nathaniel looked scandalized. Sebastian nodded and gestured for Nathaniel to keep quiet with a single finger to his lips. The two watched the pair speak with the other archer who merely grunted and bowed in response.

The range was set up with one target. They would take turns. The archer with the arrow the furthest from the center would be eliminated.

Sebastian walked forward to the line as did the hooded archer. They had six arrows to do this. A coin was flipped to see who would go first. 

Sebastian drew his first arrow. Carefully he got as close to center as he could.

His opponent went and they managed to nudge his arrow up so they were both sharing the center.

“Hmm.” Sebastian took a breath. They went back and forth. Both of them just happening to nudge the other arrow a but to occupy the same distance from the center. Sebastian glared at the archer across from him as they notched their 5th arrow and did it again. Sebastian knew it was on purpose. He stepped up again and reached into his quiver only to come out empty. “What?” He pulled his quiver forward where no arrow lay. He was an arrow short. His gaze turned toward the stands where the crowd watched him. Zeroing in on where he’d last seen Lena, she wasn’t there.

He scanned the other stands. Perhaps she’d moved to get a closer look? No she wasn’t there either.

“Is there a problem?” The Range Master asked him.

“Ah…” Sebastian eyed his empty quiver.

“This would mean a forfeit.”

“I understand.” Sebastian shrugged and gave a smile at his opponent who had their arms crossed and a deeply set frown. “Unfortunately I will have to concede defe-”

“Wait!  Hold on!” Lena’s voice called only she was much closer.  “Gosh damn, man excuse me. Yeah fuck off if you think you can pinch my arse.” There was a groan and Lena burst from a crowd of dwarves at the archer tent who had lingered there to make bets. “I have his last arrow. Gosh, you coulda told them I was coming, Bassy.” Lena stomped forward with the arrow held out. The small bit of cloth she’d attached to it flew in the breeze.

He would have been relieved then but he was finally seeing her up close. His cheeks lost all warmth when he saw how sickly pale she was. There were dark bags under her bloodshot dilated eyes, chapped red lips, and her hair wasn’t nearly as neat as she usually keeps it. Even when it was in loose curls it was well kept. She was a person who prided herself on being clean yet here she was not quite as so. Certainly she was cleaner than many people in attendance, but this was Lena.

“Lena are you well-oh!” He paused as she got closer and saw the purple love bites that covered the nape of her neck and the rope indents and burns on her wrists. His cheeks flushed red then as he recalled she had disappeared with Duncan the Grey Warden the night before. “Maker’s breath woman.”

“Yeah yeah I know I look like shit. Take your arrow. I’m running on like three hours of sleep. Now win this tourney so I can catch a nap.”  She prodded his side with a pout.

Sebastian looked at the arrow in his hand and then to the range.

“Is everything in order?” The Range Master asked him.

“It should be.” Lena said and left his side to sit besides Nathaniel.

“Yes.” Sebastian watched as she slumped in her chair. Her eyes drooped a moment she sat up straight to watch him. He looked down at the arrow and then up at his opponent waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's sort of a cliffhanger. Only because I haven't decided if Sebastian wins or not against this mysterious "drunk" archer.


	50. Chateau Haine, 3rd Day pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the third day of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. The post archery tourney, we follow the shadow that's been present. Then Lena takes a nap and a swim in a magically created pool.

An apple crunched between half rotted teeth. Harlan peered out the window of the second floor room of the keep’s library. His teeth and lips smacking as he chewed on the fresh apple slice. It was too fresh given they were coming out of winter. Magic removed all obstacles when you wanted fresh food.

He picked at the appleseed stuck between impacted teeth and spat it in his pristinely white gloved hand. The glove now contained a hefty dose of leftover chewing tobacco and in the midst of the spit was the apple seed.

“Another.” He held his hand out to Prudence.

“You can do it yourself,” she sighed. Prudence didn’t look up from her perch on the chaise. She held a grimoire in one hand and plucked a grape with the other.

Harlan didn’t spare a glance at her, instead he crooked a glowing red finger at her. His stared out into the garden and fountains. He spared no glance as Prudence gave a short gasp. Her body twisted, concaving into itself as her throat collapsed. A tail lashed out from under her skirts and black ichor bubbled out of her eyes and ears. Teeth flashed, growing in length before retracting behind a second pair of lips that unhinged from beneath her jaw.

“You will do as I say,” Harlan sighed as he tracked figures in the garden. Three of them, with one lagging behind as they paused at the pool. “Do I make myself clear, Demon?”

“I will do as you _command._ ” The voice did not come from Prudence’s malformed mouth, but it was disembodied and guttural.

Harlan relinquished control and Prudence gasped, glaring at him as she returned to her human appearance. She pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket to wipe the ichor up. She disposed of the handkerchief in the single magical brazier in the room.  Her hands shook as she righted her clothing, hair, and tucked her tail back beneath the skirts.

“Another.” Harlan held his hand out, the appleseed resting in the middle of his palm.

Prudence withheld a growl but flailed her hand at the seed. It quivered in Harlan’s palm before cracking open. A single sprout grew up. Life forming from the energy poured into it. It grew, longer into a sprouting tree. Harlan let the seed drop to the floor. A fresh apple tree growing in spot with no dirt, no water, and little sunlight. All from the power of a demon under control of a blood mage. The tree sprouted apples that one by one began to fall. But one dropped into Harlan’s still open palm. Once it did, the rest of the tree began to rescind. The apples withered away, dying and turning to ash and the bark of the tree all but disappeared.  

Harlan didn’t care for those, simply pulling a dagger out and cutting a slice of the apple in his palm.

“Such waste.” LaVish spoke from his own position in the library. A simple wine glass between his fingers but the liquid within it was no wine. It was dark and viscous. It thickened and darkened into a murky flaky brown where it touched the glass.

“Paltry?” Harlan asked. Again he didn’t look toward his pets.

“Nothing, milord.” LaVish muttered, while swirling the wine glass. The liquid was becoming gelatinous.

“Are you sybarites quite ready?” Johane drummed her fingers against a side table, waiting for them to turn to her.

“Now now,” LaVish began, his tone monotonous as he cast a lazy look over Lady Harimann. “There’s no need for name calling.” He spoke over the rim of his wine glass. His too pale skin a dark contrast as he tipped his wine glass back. The dark sludge like quality was exactly as he liked it. It stained his lips red.

“I suppose that was a bit harsh.” Johane glared at him. “Would libertine suffice? Or perhaps roué would be more appropriate if the Templars caught wind of you.” She hissed. “Broken across the wheel is a most apt punishment, don’t you think?”

“You Orlesians.” La’Vish snarled.

“Ah-ah... I am Marcher.”

“Oh yes. Technically Marcher. You may have been born here but never forget your _Orlesian_ heritage.” La’Vish spat.

“You say that as if you don’t wish you had my family’s connections.” She hissed back.

“And what? Become frog fuckers like you?” La’Vish smirked.

“You...” She narrowed her eyes and then smiled. “There is prestige and favor to be granted by the Chantry if I turn over a maleficar. Especially so if the maleficar can be linked to any recent rash murders and disappearances. It would be most inconvenient. Don’t you think? Sister Penance can’t protect you forever.”

“Johane.” Harlan’s crisp tone ceased all discussion. He turned from the window to glare at his generals. His left hand, Prudence and his temporary right, La’Vish, faced him. He didn’t address her threat but stared long at her. “Did you introduce Flora to Vael?” Harlan questioned as he slipped another apple slice between his teeth.

“I did.” Johane confirmed, stilling as she considered continuing.

“Speak.” Harlan cut another slice, moving away from the window to stand at a desk, graciously gifted to him for use by Prosper.

“I thought instead of Goran we might go for-”

“No.” Harlan waved his hand. “Leave the Brother alone.”

“It would be easier if we went for him instead of trying to put that fool Goran on the throne.” Johane suggested.

“Sebastian would be too difficult to control.” La’Vish sighed. “With a competent ruler on the throne, our operations would be difficult to breach past Starkhaven’s Holy Militia, much less make any headway into their undercity. An undercity that does not yet exist.”

“Starkhaven is ripe for the taking, Harlan. If we remove the Vaels all together we wouldn’t need a veiled shadow ruler.” Johane ignored La’Vish.

Harlan stared at her, his single scarred eye blinked before he gave a crooked smile. “Aye, we wouldn’t.”

Johane smiled in triumph.

“Can you drum up an army to match theirs? An army whose military training and regiment has held back the Qunari invaders. As such tactics are _still_ studied to this day in Starkhaven and utilized. But sure, let us just commit regicide and assume we can waltz right in there.” Harlan stared at Johane. “If you believe that, then you’re even more of a fool than I thought.”

“It just seems overly complicated to-”

“The people, Johane.” Harlan smacked the desk. The books and trinkets shook as his gaze flashed red. “It is the people of Starkhaven we will have to worry for. Their numbers are great, if they catch wind of any suspicious politicking or deaths, they will revolt. Much of the Starkhaven population is well educated.  Military enlistment is mandatory for all men, regardless of social status and voluntary for women. All to keep their proud city safe. Their loyalty is not accomplished through fear of the Chantry like Tantervale but to the throne and what it represents and what the Vael family does. We _need_ that throne.” Harlan snarled as he seemed to rise in height. His aura commanding presence and overshadowing the light.

“I understand, but-”

“La’Vish.” Harlan barked and the temporary right hand gave a smile. His lips stretched.

“I’m quite full but if you insist.” La’Vish droned, slowly rising.

Johane watched him as he dusted himself off and set the wine glass to the side. He swept his hair back and gave her a smile.

“Harlan-” The plea was cut short as La’Vish fade stepped to her. The flurry of magic made books shiver and flutter as he gripped her throat, raising her well above the floor. His nails elongated and sharp, pressed into her skin. His glass eye glowed with enchantments. His nigh transparent skin stretched to reveal wiry dark blue varicose veined skin around his mouth. His teeth were not different than those of any normal human, but they were a tad longer. This was due to his gums beginning to fill with moisture and life with the blood he previously drank.

“It has been many moons since I’ve had blood of the nobility.” His voice droned. “It tastes of fat that’s been left marinating in wine, but it does add a bit of flavor to my diet.”

Johane’s eyes widened as she struggled against the palm against her throat. Feet kicking at the air, searching for purchase.

La’Vish’s nail dragged across her throat but did not puncture the skin. The edge of his thumb pressed against her Maferath’s apple. His glass eye swiveled independently up and down her form, searching her veins where most of her mana pooled in her blood. He tracked the branching lines in his vision to her heart.

“Tsk tsk, Lady Harimann. You should know better.” He muttered as his other hand reached for her bodice. Laces untied and dress splayed open, his finger found the spot on her sternum. Nails puncturing, the trail of blood that pooled oozed magical potential that she had stored. He leant forward and lapped it up. Lips red, he drank. His skin filled with color the more he drank as his dry veins filled with pure magic.

He could obtain the same effect with lyrium, but blood — blood was so sweet. It slipped between his teeth and reinvigorated his muscles and replenished his magical stores. Pulling back, he drew back and let her drop from his grip.  His tongue elongated and forked licked every drop of blood on his lips, not letting it go to waste.

Johane heaved with weakened magic. Her mana would restore but what she had placed there as protection was gone. A tightly interwoven shield, gone, leaving her magically exposed. She glowered at La’Vish as he strolled back to his chair and with a bored sigh, sat back down.

“Do not try my patience again.” Harlan waved his hand. He cut another slice of apple and ate it.  “Push Flora to Goran. Leave Sebastian’s involvement to Prudence.” He dismissed her as he once again turned to the window. The aforementioned demon smiled as Johane did up her dress.

Lady Harimann’s hands shook, but she ducked her head with affirmation. “Yes, Lord Harlan.” She left the room.

Harlan returned to watching the three figures tucked beneath a tree in the garden. The smaller of the three laid out on a blanket. A servant brought them a tray.  The smaller one rolled over to press close against the red headed male.

“Another.” Harlan held his hand out with another appleseed ready to grow. Prudence did not fight him, simply raised her hand and directed magic at the seed. It grew and grew until once again another apple fell to his palm, all others withered away. Harlan smirked as he cut another slice while watching the garden activities.

 

* * *

 

It was a combination of the afternoon bell and a wind chill that woke her up. The whispered conversation that had eased her to sleep had ceased. A hand was running through her hair. Gentle and soft, with the pads of their fingers rubbing against her most sensitive spots. Her scalp tingled, making her spine shiver. It was something she hadn’t trusted Varric after he’d pulled her hair just once. But this was bliss. There was only one person who knew where to rub her scalp and how gentle to be.

Blinking, she peered up at Sebastian who leaned against a tree. Next to him was Nathaniel, the both of them in quiet contemplation in each other’s presence. Serene, quiet, pleasant. Occasionally Nathaniel would lean over to grab something that Lena couldn’t see. A cube of cheese or a grape that’d he pop into Sebastian’s mouth. Who would smile and open his mouth, to accept the morsel, only to suck on Nathaniel’s fingers suggestively.  

Nathaniel would look away with a forced grin as his cheeks reddened. Then he would plant a kiss on Sebastian’s lips. The small rumble of a chuckle from Sebastian stilled his fingers for a moment, but they quickly resumed.

Lena’s throat felt tight, her molars hurting from the sweetness of it all. She didn’t want to disturb them but she felt _filthy_ and she wanted to give them some privacy instead of peeping at their shared emotional intimacy.

Sebastian murmured something too low for Lena to hear that made Nathaniel’s ears tint pink. He repeated it again, and Lena watched as Nathaniel turned smoldering —  _smoldering —_ eyes at Sebastian who gave a hum of appreciation before the two shared a deeper kiss. His hand removed from her hair to cup Nathaniel’s jaw.

 _Yeap, time to go._ Lena rolled over with a grunt and flailed to her feet. Her back popping and cracking as she went. “Ugh… ya’ll are too sweet to watch. Nauseating.” She grumbled.

“Lena!” Sebastian and Nathaniel jumped apart.

“You keep doing you. I gotta find a chamber pot.” She did not give them a choice in her departure or time to react. Their legs were tangled up with a plate between them. They’d have to move all that to catch up to her. Lena smirked.

Truth is she did need a bathroom. But not to empty her bowels, to take a bath. It meant disappearing to her chambers and asking a servant to draw her bath.

“Too much effort.” She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she stopped short at the pool. The garden was expansive but the reflecting pool sloped and ending at stairs leading out. It's tile held a reflecting mosaic picture of a great sea serpent on the bottom. The water was the clearest she's ever seen. Even the water she’d pump up in Kirkwall was cloudy and took a lot of boiling to get the water as clean as she needed. Yet Chateau Haine it was so crystal clear she could see to the deep depth of this side of it.

_How deep was it? Twelve? Fifteen feet?_

Her fingers trailed up to her hair, where Dopey was perched. Scritching his underbelly, she pulled the spider off her and set it on a chair by the edge of the pool. “Stay there.” She cooed, knowing spiders and water really didn’t mix well. He chittered, raising his front legs in confirmation. Only he didn't stay there. He crawled to the underside of the chair, probably in search of some bugs.

The Solarium was mostly empty. People were enjoying the festivities of the tourney outside the Keep. A few people mulled about. She could spy Denier and some lady taking a stroll through the gardens.

It wasn't all the upper crust nobility. Some merchants were accompanied by prostitutes, disappearing into the expansive garden bushes and some of the garden visitors were commoners in simple tunics and leggings. How they managed to enter the gardens was a mystery but no one was stopping them.

Turning back to the pool she kicked off her boots. Lena began to remove her stockings next to dip her feet.

“Madame River?” A shadow came across her.

Whether it was her sleep deprivation, muscle exhaustion, or a combination of the two that left her not paying attention to her immediate surroundings; either way the person caught her off guard as she spun to face them, slipping on her stockings. She flailed falling backward into the water with a yelp and sharp inhale of breath.

She expected to be met with a cold splash of water to wake her up. Instead the water enveloped her in warmth.  The reflecting pool was heated.  She sunk into it like a bath and it increased in temperature the deeper she went. The normal shock of cold water would have woken her up to keep afloat but this was far too relaxing. She didn’t even try to float to the surface.

She floated over the bottom tiles. The familiar embrace of water pressure around her like a warm cocoon that calmed her.  Her eyes opened to the view around her. The only sound was of the beating of her heart and the movement of water as it churned around her.

The pool was deeper at this end than she thought. Or perhaps it was because she was shorter now than the last time she was in a pool?

Looking at the tiles she traced the sea serpent, pausing as each tile had a glow about them. A distinctly enchantment like glow. Angling down, she spied the faint traces of the lyrium engraved in the tiles. They connected to each other in an intricate pattern.

What a lavish display of wealth. Not only using mages as servants but tranquil to build himself a pool that was heated via enchantment. What else did Duke Prosper have? Was the pool capable of other things too? Bubbles like a jacuzzi? Could it emulate waves and turn it into a wave pool? How freaking awesome would that be? Lena wouldn’t put it past the Duke to employ such things.

The closer she observed the more the sheen of glow pulsed. The color changing as heat came off it. Touching a finger to a tile, she traced the rune. Its pulsing glow changed and that change spread to the others near it. The water rose in temperature enough to cause actual bubbles to form around her. Yet the water was nowhere near boiling, at least she didn’t think.

 _Uhh._   _I didn't do it_. She pushed off the tiles with her feet, intending on shooting to the surface when arms wrapped around her. The sudden force of a wall of muscle made her scream releasing what breathe she had left. She flailed to pull away but they held fast to her as they rose up.

When they broke the surface Lena let out a gasp and sucked in air with greed. Only when her lungs stopped aching did she push at whomever was holding her. Again she met against what amounted to a wall of muscle taut with tension as they dragged her toward the end of the pool where she could kneel on her own and cough out the bit of water she had sucked in. She blinked, wiping the water from her eyes. When she could see the expanse of grey muscles, it registered who was holding her.

Iron Bull climbed out of the water once he was sure she was fine on her own, coughing up water and breathing. He towered over her, and only a second too late did he realize how terrifying he was for little ole her when she flinched back.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Yeah…” She huffed.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He gave a reassuring smile, or tried to but Lena fixed him with a glare. She meant to admonish him that she’d been fine and didn’t need saving when Sebastian’s contrite and worry call had her looking up to see him jumping into the pool toward her. Nathaniel was behind him, removing his shoes.

“Lena!” Sebastian huffed and checked her over, sending glares at Iron Bull who raised his hands up and backed away. “What did that ox-savage do to you?”

Iron Bull was unfazed by his language but not Lena. She lost her footing and fell back into the water in shock over Sebastian’s blatant racism.

“Sebastian! You don’t use that kind of language!” Lena admonished Sebastian. “You apologize to him this instant.”

“He almost drowned you and you want me to-” Sebastian’s mouth opened.

“He saved me, he wasn’t drowning me and yes. Apologize. Right now. That language is unacceptable. That’s just… well that’s racist.” She stood in the water, her short dress floating around her. Crossing her arms, she glowered at Sebastian.

He took a look at her, the seriousness of her expression and her stance had Sebastian culled. It wasn’t the playful sort like he’d grown used to when she dominated him and ordered him around. It was the sort of expression and stance she’d only used once when he’d overstepped his boundaries in terms of consent. Consent was integral to their arrangement and friendship.

The longer he stalled the deeper her scowl got. Turning toward the Qunari, he fumbled.

“Apologize.” She pushed him.

“Messere…” He didn’t know his name.

“The Iron Bull.” The Qunari provided with a surprised smirk that royalty was taking orders from a shortstack dwarf.  

“Messere Bull, I am sorry for the language I just used.” Sebastian inclined his head.

“Good.” Lena sighed and dropped her arms and turned to Iron Bull. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Awh it’s alright. Didn’t mean to scare you before.” Iron Bull shrugged.

“Yo-you didn’t scare me.” Lena sputtered. “You just caught me off guard. There is a difference,” she insisted.  

“Sure, sure.” He chuckled as he climbed out of the pool

“Did you need something?” She poised.

“Ah, you know. Can’t remember.” He shrugged with a big smile. “Just glad you’re alright.”

Lena wasn’t convinced but said nothing. She climbed out of the pool with a shiver. Her dress clung close and her feet slipped, but Sebastian grabbed hold of her. She slapped his hand.

“I need a towel before I freeze.” She chattered her teeth.

“We can return to my quarters-” Nathaniel suggested.

“Oh no. It’s getting late and I need to get ready for the evening.” Selena brushed off and grabbed her shoes. “Dopey…” She called and the spider crawled toward her but paused at her dripping. “Ugh...I’m not…” She turned to Sebastian. “Sebastian, pick Dopey up. Poor thing is afraid of water.”

“You...I…” Sebastian blanched at the spider.

“Are you seriously scared of an itty bitty spider?” Lena teased.

“No…” He couldn’t even convince himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I didn't go over 4k words on this. And after last chapter's almost 8k this was a nice breather for a bit. Plus I had a group project due this week for class and it was insane so a bit shorter but it covers everything I want. 
> 
> Note. La'Vish is what I would call a Thedosian Vampire. He's a bloodmage, incase you didn't get that, who drinks blood as his power source. He doesn't have fangs (cause ew gross you don't need fangs to penetrate the skin). I figured there should be vampires even if they don't use that word.


	51. Chateau Haine, 4th Night pt1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of the fourth night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. All Lena wants is to sleep right about now. But the Tourney festivities have begun and Lena must manage the Blooming Roses, deal with entitled customers, a certain undercover Ben-Hassrath, and then even more entitled customers.

Now that the Kirkwall Tourney had officially begun, there was less decadence at night. The posh secluded environment within the inner keep was still closed off to the general public but the outer keep was a bustle with activity. Lena and the Blooming Roses were no longer restricted in where they could do business.

They had a tent, a rather nice tent. There were other tents, stalls, and even bazaars. They offered activities, games, and gambling. They sold fruits, vegetables, bread, cheese, wine, ale, baubles, and trinkets. There was even a representative from the Circle there selling enchantments.

All these amazing things to see and buy and Lena couldn’t go check any of them out. She had ten gold to burn and no way to sneak off.

She plopped her head down on the makeshift desk in the tent they inhabited. Their tent was in the “red tent” section of the tourney activities even though their tent was pink. Blooming Rose pink to be specific  It was large, with sectioned off “rooms” with lavish cots and pillows. She’d had to help set it up with the others. Each sectioned off cot was decorated with a special enchanted fabric to keep sounds in and none to leak out. They didn’t always work on account of how old these were and as evidenced by the occasional half-broken moan that filtered through, but it certainly toned down the sex noises. It did little for the smell of sex and sweat.

Every other stall began operating either during the archery tourney or right after Sebastian had tied with that other archer. She hadn’t expected them to tie. And from the look on Sebastian’s face at the time, he hadn’t expected it either. He did however relinquished the privilege to represent Kirkwall in the Grand Tourney to the other archer. He was a man of the cloth and couldn't represent Kirkwall on account of him more than likely representing the Chantry or his family if he went. Incredibly noble, humble, and kind of him to do that given he did take certain pride in his skill.  But it would not overshadow how he spat out such horrible language not a few hours ago.

Selena grumbled, teeth gritting as she glared at some of the men who walked by and oogled Faith who sat up front with her blouse open to attract customers. It was just the barest hint of the tops of her bosom with a peak every now and then of her nipples. Serendipity, when she wasn’t servicing also joined Faith, singing gently and batting her eyelashes at whomever looked her way. Denier lingered around outside of the tent, drawing in women and men from further off. They were less than pleasant to look at but held no less amount of coin.

It was enough to draw customers in like moths to a flame until they saw the price. Usually they came back around after doing a bit of gambling, drunker than ever.  Sometimes they forgot who was actually for sale and would give Lena a smile and smack a handful of coins down expecting her to be their whore for the few minutes they wanted. A lay was a lay to them. It usually wasn’t even enough money to buy even their cheapest gal at the Rose. Barely a few silvers.  

“Not for sale.” Lena grit but snatched the coin anyway. “But thank you for your generous donation to the IDGAF fund.”

“What fund?” They’d ask bleary eyed.

“The IDGAF fund is to help…” Lena would trail off and think up some bullshit reason why she was simply taking the idiot’s money.  In her mind she called it the Gratuity Fee for having to deal with them.

“...the Blooming Rose Career Enhancement School.” That one went to an enterprising young man who though he could charm his way into her knickers.

“...restore our witherstalk sap stores.” Lena rolled her eyes as if it was obvious. “What? You didn’t think the complimentary ale was because we liked you?”

“...provide education, lodging, and food to all the little bastards you lot tend to leave behind at brothels without so much as howdy-do.” She said once to a minor nobleman who did a doubletake and backed away.

“...our chaffing fee. It’s called lubricant. You know, oils and lotions. And no, saliva and cum don’t count.”

“...the chamberpot cleaner bureau. We pay our champerbot cleaners very well for keeping them clean and pristine. We need them after every foray in the sheets. Remember to piss after sex be it masturbatory, oral, vaginal and especially anal. It will prevent infection.”

“...Cleaner Sheets. Sometimes customers make a mess. Be it sweat, saliva, ejaculant, piss, shit or even blood. Now I should note if our workers are bleeding, you will be found out and banned. That aside, please help keep our sheets clean!”

“...the apothecary fee. Sometimes our customers think it’s a great idea to double dip.” She’d explain. At their confused expression she would go into a lengthy discussion of the hazards of sticking it in the ass and then the vagina. “Remember PINK TO STINK! Not STINK TO PINK. THINK OF IT LIKE PAINT! YOU’LL TURN IT BROWN IF YOU DO IT WRONG!” She would yell as they ran off.

Slumping back into her chair, Lena laughed at the curious looks passersby sent her. The Coppermaidens, Madame Giselle hollered with glee from across the way at her shenanigans along with her ladies of the evening.

She’d long since added on the slab of black slate stone that she was using as a board with calcium sulfate sticks (the one purchase she’d made on her way in).  “Erotic Education” with the price listed as “Whatever you feel like paying” that way if they came back sober she could point to it. She even had pulled out parchment and deftly sliced them into pamphlets with some quick facts written down. It was mostly so she’d have something to do besides take the coin, their name, and direct them to the table where she served them ale.

Athenril, appearing far more refreshed and awake, shook her head from her position further in the tent sat at a table with a mug of ale. “One of them will get mad you know.” She said as she swapped out cards with Denier. There was a lull between customers.

“Ah, that’s what you’re for.” Denier scratched his beard. Athenril sent him a glare.

“I’d rather not have to put down a drunk.” Athenril slapped a card down with a grunt.

“But you’re so good at it.” Denier cooed. “Just love watching you-” He stopped talking when Athenril glared.

“Eh… if they have a problem, they can fucking deal with it.” Lena shrugged as she swiveled her pen on the makeshift pamphlets and made three crude drawings of a penis entering a mouth, vagina, and an ass.  “The customer is NOT always right. And we do not haggle.”

“Shame, I thought I might barter you down.” A rumbling Prinzely voice spoke to her left.

Lena snapped her gaze up at the Iron Bull who was examining her makeshift chalkboard. Conversation halted behind her at his appearance. Tapping her finger, Lena’s guard was raised at the presence of the Ben Hassrath.

“Unless you’ve got at least three gold, you’re not going to be able to afford anyone here. So move along, Tal-vashoth.” Denier spat from his spot, glaring at the Iron Bull with as much vitriol he could manage.

Lena turned on her chair to look at him with surprise. “Tal-vashoth?”

“You know. A _failed_ Qunari.” Denier grumbled. Even Athenril was giving the Iron Bull a glare.  

Serendipity wandered out of her sectioned off cot. Her last customer pulling his trousers up with a pleased grin as he walked out. She stopped at who was now waiting.

“Madame Giselle and the Coppermaidens might be more your style.”  Serendipity hissed and sat at the table with Denier.

“What has gotten into ya’ll?” Lena squinted at all three of them. She turned around not waiting for an answer and faced Bull, surprised by the smirk and intense look he set on her.  

He hadn’t let any of them phase him. His complete attention was on Lena directly. He reached into his trousers and pulled out a small handful of coin. “Three gold minimum right? Four should do it?” He asked.

“Listen, if none of them want to take you on as a customer,” Lena looked back at them. Their bodies tense as they glowered. “I’m not going to force them. I’m not that kind of Madame.”

“That’s fine. Don’t want them.” Bull licked his lips. “Want you.”

“Uh…” Lena wasn’t sure she heard right. “Wha...what? Sorry I’m running on almost no sleep, what?”

“I would like to purchase a bit of your time and services, Madame River.”  Bull picked up one of the pamphlets, his eyes roving over the list of facts and sex advice she’d written down. “Be fair and prepare?” He looked up with a raised brow at her. “When it comes to anal sex, preparation and lots of lubricant are key.” The baritone of his voice rumbled.

“Some of our customers are a little ignorant in matters of sexual activity.” Lena huffed as he read through the rest of the pamphlet.

“And you offer advice?”

“I know my craft.” She shrugged and he kept reading.

“At least one Divine is rumored to have died while having sex.” He read out. “Is that true?”

“Purely speculation.” Lena grinned. It had to have happened, right? At least _once_. She was willing to bet on it. If several Popes have done it from her world, then one of the Divines must have done it here.

“What if I doubled the price?” Iron Bull pulled out another four gold.

“Okay first off, I would like to offer my apologies but my services are not for sale at the moment. I don’t have the energy and I’m worn out from last night.” She tried to explain. She was sure she’d regret this later. The chance to ride the Bull? When would she ever get that chance again?

“Worn out?” He grinned.

“Grey Wardens are insatiable.” She sighed.

“Hmm.”

“Might I suggest maybe the Seamstresses or the Coppermaidens, as my…” Lena looked back at Serendipity and Denier with a question in her eyes. But they didn’t answer, just stood there stiff shouldered and glowering. “...colleagues did earlier.”

“Alright.” He picked up his coin and then pointed at the pamphlets. “Better not let any Chantric folk see these.” Iron Bull sauntered away to across the way to the Coppermaidens as suggested.

If she wasn’t exhausted and cranky, Lena might have thought the entire exchange odd, but she was more preoccupied with the Roses reaction to his presence.

“What the fuck guys? Is everyone here racist against Qunari or something?” She directed to the group. Faith had joined them from her sectioned off room.

“It’s not that he’s a qunari.” Serendipity began as she joined the card game.

“He ruined one of our own years ago.” Denier explained.

“And he refused to drink the ale before hand. Poor Vivieka had to give birth to an ox-child.” Faith sighed.

“Wait…” Lena’s thought process short-circuited. “Wait...what?!”

 

 

* * *

 

As the night drew on there were less customers drawn toward the tents and instead were either asleep or congregating toward small bonfires of celebration. There were minstrels taking to their lutes and some drums sounding. It wasn’t too loud but enough that stalls and tents were closing up, intending on joining in the festivities.

Prudence appeared with a basket of apples. Apples that were rosy ripe red. Completely perfectly shaped apples too. Lena went to snatch one but looked up at Prudence for permission.

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.”  She bit into it having not had a decent full meal all day. Her stomach hadn’t grumbled once but she knew she should eat something.  Finished one, she grabbed another much to Prudence’s amusement.

“My, you’re hungry.”

“I haven’t eaten anything all day. And oh man, these are juicey. How’d you get them to be so perfect?” Lena asked but looked up at the double rows of teeth in Prudence’s smile and pushed it aside. “Nevermind, I have an idea.”

Prudence giggled delighted and sat down.

“I would kill for a roasted chicken right now.” Lena mumbled.

“Perhaps you can find one?” Prudence suggested.

“Right, go out there when I have to stay in here and man the business.” Lena grumbled.

“The night isn’t exactly young anymore. I believe operations can be closed.” Prudence drummed her perfectly manicured fingers on the table.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t Harlan be displeased if he finds out?” Lena prodded.

“What Harlan doesn’t know, won’t displease him.” Prudence hummed as bit into one of her own apples. The motion of both rows of teeth, upper and lower, was difficult. Yet the noblewoman-skin-wearing-creature pulled it off.

Again Lena wondered why no one else could see what she was but left it alone.

“Guys!” Lena went to tell the Roses the good news but Faith was already gone, Denier and Serendipity were pulling on their cloaks ready to join the festivities. Athenril was the only one left sitting at her post. She was nursing a mug of ale and sent Lena shrug.

“Oh.”

“We were sitting right here.”

“Where’s Faith?”

“Off to find Adriano.” Athenril grumbled.

“Isn’t he bought out for the week with uh-”

“Yes.” Athenril grit her teeth. Her fingers tense.

“Oookay.” Lena looked down at the pamphlets that remained and the lockbox. “Right then, I guess if we’re done for the night...” Lena packed up the box and set the board behind the table. Prudence bid her a good night, taking her apples with her. Lena gave Athenril a look as she hefted her lockbox up. She gave her a sigh but rose up as they closed the tent. There was no locking it up but there was nothing of value in there except the enchanted fabric.

They walked through some of the festivities. Lena catching sight of people dancing by the fire. Their shadows long and dark. Music swooned over the ruckus. It was a jaunty tune that they did a stomping dance to with a jump before they switched partners.

“A toast to Kirkwall’s best archer!” Came a shout. There was agreements and people laughing as an actual drunk figure stumbled forward. Their cloak and hood pulled back to reveal a young face with a wicked sharp smile. But what was most surprising was the tuft of blonde hair and face covered in tattoos. On their back was the gnarled wooden bow. At the top of it was a crystal that gleamed.

Lena’s steps slowed as she caught sight of the winning archer who’s face was laid bare to all. Some people sent her glares, others didn’t care. She stumbled toward a company of mercenaries with one single large horned figure who caught Lena’s gaze. She sent Bull a forced smile and shuffled away as quick as she could.

There were more bonfires and more dances, none of which Lena knew or even the tunes played. Not that she paid much attention to them. Her mind was dead set on her bed. Passing out to sleep for a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

Unfortunately, the cosmos had other plans.

“Mama!” Sebastian’s voice slurred as Lena and Athenril turned the corner. He was leaning against the door to their quarters with a wine bottle in one hand.

“Ah shit.” Nathaniel was there as well, trying to pull Sebastian away.

“Fu-...really?” Lena swore. “I am too tired to deal with this shit.” She sighed.

“I can get rid of them, if you wish.” Athenril offered. An unusual charitable offer but given the way Athenril gave Sebastian a lazy look, it wouldn’t be too much trouble.

“No...I’ve got it.” Lena yawned as she rubbed her eyes. The slight slump to her posture straightened and she sauntered forward transformed to her persona. Nathaniel saw the look in her eyes and pulled away, still trying to drag the inebriated brother of the chantry. “Really, Bassy? You’re drunk? What does our contract say about over consumption?”

Sebastian gave a shit-eating grin at her and went to drink more wine. “Dunno...what does it say, Mama?”

Narrowing her eyes, Lena clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It says over-consumption is a punishable offence-”

“D’ya want me to drop trou?” Sebastian slurred, his burr came out stronger than ever.  

“No, I don’t-”

“Oh maker.” Nathaniel facepalmed.

“I-I can do it, Mama.” Sebastian grinned, setting aside the wine bottle and beginning to unlace his trousers. Lena smacked his hand.

“Stop that.” She used her voice, causing Sebastian’s cheeks to redden further and his mouth to gape.

“Say that again, please.” Sebastian moaned.

Sighing, she gave Nathaniel a questioning look. “What happened?”

“We were drinking and had a bit too much.”

“No shit.”

“Yer not angry, are ya, Mama?” Sebastian bat his eyelashes up at her. _Little shit._

“He kept going on and on about…” Nathaniel explained.

“Mama, I need ya.” Sebastian huffed his hands now inside his trousers.

“Sebastian.” She hissed as she watched him work himself hard.

“...how disappointed you were in him.” Nathaniel continued.

“I’m not… ugh. I’m not disappointed.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Really?” Sebastian perked up, his hand stilled. Nathaniel even stared at her.

“Well I will be if you continue to sit there and wank off where anyone can see you.” Lena snapped and frowned.  

Sebastian’s movements stilled. “Oh.”

“Yeah… oh. We may be at the pleasure palace, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be obscene- SEBASTIAN!” She hollered when he continued to rub himself off with a shit-eating grin. “Oh you little shit!” Lena roared and opened the door to her room, letting Sebastian fall backward. “Get him inside.” She barked at Nathaniel and he jumped at her command, doing as she said.

Nathaniel hefted Sebastian to the couch as Lena stomped through to her room. Athenril closed the door, positioning herself where she could easily react to anything the two humans did.

Grumbling, Lena opened her lockbox and made sure the coin was accounted for and tucked it all away neatly.  She consciously breathed to calm herself. She couldn’t injure Sebastian despite her fatigue-induced frustration. Between all the louts trying to purchase her for far less than she deserved, to Bull, and now this - she was almost done with it all and was about to tell Sebastian to just sleep it off. Instead, her gaze fell on her ipad.

She hovered her finger over the startup process, watching the little apple logo light up and waited. She was worried the same strange wifi pop up would happen again. If it did, she’d shut it down. Thankfully, it didn’t.

Navigating to her music app, she plugged one earbud in and quickly hit randomize. She didn’t care what song, just anything would help calm her down just then.  Besides one song wouldn’t hurt right?

It did.

Roughly four minutes later, she walked out of her room with a scowl. She was out of the pink dress required of her to wear when running the Blooming Rose and was now wearing the same dress she’d worn to the archery tourney. It had _magically_ been completely dry in her wardrobe.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

“Mama…” Sebastian sat up where he’d layed with his head in Nathaniel’s lap who petted his hair.

“Shut up.” Lena snapped at Sebastian and then sighed. “Let’s go. Clearly you want to spend time with Mama, so time with Mama you will get.”

“Yess.” Sebastian stood up, swaying. His trousers fell revealing he wasn’t wearing any smalls.

“You said you tied your trousers.” Nathaniel pulled them back up.

“I lied.”

“Clearly.”

For the umpteenth time, Lena let out a sigh.

“I thought you were too tired?” Athenril asked.

“Yeah, so did I. But apparently there ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

 

* * *

  
“You know, I feel bad for you Nathaniel.” Lena chewed her bottom lip.

“Oh? Why is that?” They walked the halls of the keep. They were near the inner keep, and passed the doors to the library and were well on their way to the Southernmost wing.

“You had to deal with this for… how many years?” She asked.

“Felt like a lifetime.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, my sympathies. Drunk Sebastian is _not_ fun Sebastian.”

“Agreed.” Nathaniel hefted the arm that draped over his shoulders, readjusting where the almost dead weight of Sebastian lay.

“You know, I can hear you both.” Sebastian drawled.

“We know.” Lena and Nate grumbled.

“And, I would like to say I am most definitely fun when drunk.” Sebastian insisted.

“Uh-huh.” Lena patted his arm.

“I mean it.” Choir-boy frowned.

“Of course you are.” Nathaniel added with a patronizing pat as well. Sebastian grunted and pulled off him. His sway was less but still too dangerous to leave him on his own.

“Mama knows I’m fun.”

“You’re fun in the bedroom, dear.” She deadpanned. Nate snickered at the affronted look on Sebastian’s face.

“You harlot!” Sebastian gasped.

“Excuse me?” Lena turned on him.

“You offend my Chantric ears with your salaciousness.” Sebastian drew back.

“Excuse you?!”

“You tempt men into your slatternous sheets, where they slather _my_ Selena with their silken tongues. Staining you vile with purple welts.” Sebastian hissed with a point. “Where is _my_ Selena, _my_ Mama.”

“Ooooh.” Lena squinted at him. “You’re jealous.”

“Yes!” Sebastian pouted and regretted it. “No! I am merely wishing to protect your modesty.”

“My modesty?” Lena cackled. “What have you been smoking?!”

“You came to me covered in another man’s bruises.” Sebastian huffed, stooped to brush his hands over the said marks on her neck and collarbone. “These should be mine, not his.”

“Sebastian… I’m a prostitute. Remember. There will be- heck there _are_ other men. You should be used to me sleeping with other men. Heck I sleep with Varric too.” Lena pushed his hands away but he grabbed their wrists.

“Is Varric a customer too?” Sebastian asked as he hovered close.

“Sebastian.” Nathaniel warned, not understanding the situation but knowing his friend would regret this in the morning. “Leave Selena alone.”

Sebastian ignored Nathaniel and pushed Lena against a wall, her hands on either side of her.

“Is Varric a customer?” He reiterated with a look of desperation. His mouth hovered close to Lena’s. They were almost breathing each other’s breath. Lena caught the panicked look from Nathaniel as Athenril stepped out of the shadows with her dagger present. Lena waved to stop her.

“No…” Lena answered between grit teeth. “He’s…”

“Your lover?” Sebastian’s wide bright eyes begged for confirmation, already preparing himself for the inevitable.

“Fuck buddy.” Lena corrected. “He does something for me, that my customers don’t. If anything, I should be paying him.” A crass way to describe it but hopefully one that would get through to Sebastian.

“Do you kiss Varric?” Sebastian’s lips brushed over hers.

Lena froze, eyes wide and she stopped breathing. Red alerts screaming in her head.

“Yes….” She seethed between teeth, not opening her mouth. Sebastian tried to kiss her, but only got a peck. Her lips remained pressed tight as she glared at him. When he knew he would get no further, he pulled away, letting her go.

He wasn’t fast enough as she gripped his hair by the roots and dragged him down so he was now kneeling on the floor to look up at her.

“You will never do that again.” She snarled and pulled harder.

“Yes…” He breathed hard with a smile. “Yes, mama.”

She tossed him away and stalked a fair distance. She intended on just leaving him there, but Sebastian had the nerve to add one more thing.

“You kissed Nathaniel.”

_Damnit. Damn male ego._

“Is that what you want? You want a kiss?” She turned on him. “Is that what this is about Sebastian?”

“You told me it was off limits. Yet you kissed Nathaniel."

“First off. He kissed me. And secondly, it is called boundaries. You remember what those are, right? I remember spending near three sessions on that.”

“Yes…”

“Right, and one of my hard boundaries was kissing. Because you’re a regular, I needed a boundary.” She explained.

“But why kissing when we do so much more than that?”

“Familiarity breeds attraction, Sebastian. The more you see someone, the more you find them attractive.” Lena explained slowly.  He seemed to get it by the way he nodded. Of course he could be nodding just to get her to hurry up. It was anybody’s guess. “Familiarity also breeds emotional attachment. The more you’re around someone, the more you’ll care about them whether you want to or not. I was seeing you every week. I needed to keep distance. But Nathaniel, I will likely only see him here. Same as Warden Duncan. Understand?”

“So...you’re saying.” Sebastian pieced.

“She’s saying she finds you attractive and she cares about you.” Nathaniel put it simply.  “And that she’s worried she might fall for you.” Nathaniel looked at Lena with understanding and a shared connection. It was the same situation he found himself in all those years ago, one he revisited every time he was around Sebastian as he felt old feelings rise up again.  

“You love me?” Sebastian smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much help from Spellweaver again! :D 
> 
> Back by popular demand, another Iron Bull interaction. Also drunk Sebastian was weird to write. But no less fun than usual. 
> 
> Prudence's apples make another appearance. Those are... well more for symbolic purposes. 
> 
> And we learn who won the Archery Tourney. I hope you caught that. Someone special~


	52. Chateau Haine, 4th Night pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the fourth night of Six Days and Seven Nights at Chateau Haine. Things come to ahead for Lena.

Annoyance bit at Lena’s senses as she stared at Sebastian’s pleased expression. It would get to his head if she didn't immediately refute such a claim that she _loved_ him. He’d be smirking and lording it over her or making jokes. Taunt her sentimentality.

_“You love me?” Keith asked as they lay in the same field as when they first started going out. “Ha...you-you love? I mean how do you even know that?”_

_Lena fumbled. His smile grew wide and he let out a huff of a laugh. It grew loud and obnoxious as he rolled off her._

_“Oh man wait till I tell Javon.” He snickered and pulled his flip phone out. Lena paled as he quickly typed out a message. “No it’s cute. Absolutely adorable.” His attempt to reassure her was not serious._

_Lena’s cheeks burned but she rolled over away from him. “You’re such an ass.”_

_“But you loooovvve me.”_

_“Not anymore I don’t.” She deadpanned. It was a lie.  He was an asshole and yet...her first love._

_“Awww…” Keith pouted but continued to laugh. “Come on. Don’t be salty.”_

_“I’m not salty, more…” She turned a playful smirk at him, swallowing the well of emotion that almost bubbled up in her throat to warble her voice. “Incredulous that you totally believed that.”_

_“Oh you bitch.” He snorted and laughed. “Gosh can you imagine if-”_

_“I know right?” She rolled her eyes, forcing herself to laugh._

Lena’s throat tightened at the memory. She remembered the relief she felt for convincing him and then herself that she hadn’t loved him when later on it turned out Keith was cheating on her with five different women, each of them oblivious of the others.

 _This is why you have barriers. This is why you have rules._ Lena closed her eyes. She cared about him but hadn't realized how deep it went until Nathaniel put it so aptly. When had Choir Boy gone from just a client and friend to…something more?  Probably when she let Harlan damn near blackmail her to keep their arrangement a secret from the Vael family.

 _Sentimental fool._ She berated herself.

“Oh Selena.” Sebastian’s voice was soft as he stood up, but the uplift of the corner of his lips infuriated her. Lena glowered at the smirk. “Had I known I would have properly-”

_Foolish drunk. Let’s nip this, now._

“You’re such an ass.” She rolled her eyes. “I love you as a _friend_.” Desperate to correct the smugness Sebastian was already building up, she would say anything. Even if it meant denying what seemed to be plainly evident to everyone but Sebastian. She’d bury it, bury her sentiments, bury her feelings; bury it all.  “I cannot allow romantic feelings to develop because then I will have to sever our contract.”

“What?” Sebastian stiffened up. “Why?”

“You’re a _Brother_ of the Chantry.” Lena reminded. “You’ve taken your vows. All members of the Chantry can hold no romantic feelings for anyone. Your love is reserved for the Maker and Andraste.”

It was a splash of reality of his duties and the oath to the Maker he’d made. Lena stepped up to him as he frowned.

“Don’t be so naive, Sebastian. Don’t mistake caring for romantic feelings.” She distanced herself before he went too far with it. “Remember you are still **paying** me. Ultimately, this **_is_ ** a business transaction.” It needed to be said. For her own safety and sanity. Especially considering what he just tried to pull. She needed to make it clear that he was a client, to further cement the distance between them. “If you still want that kiss. We’re going to have to renegotiate our contract. And after you forcefully pushed me against the wall, there’s an additional fee for coercion for you.” She glared.  “So I don’t think you can afford my new prices.” She pat his cheek, trying to ignore his dejected and crestfallen look.

“Perhaps then...” Sebastian gripped her hand to his face, enunciating his words with an over-exaggerated burr, just in the way he knew she liked. “What about I win it in a _friendly_ wager.” He emphasized the word.

“You’ve already forfeited the tourney. What other wager would we engage in?” Lena crossed her arms.

“I bet if I can serenade you-”

“Nope. Not taking that. Are you forgetting I heard you singing the chant?” Lena snorted.

“No. However you haven't heard me sing anything else.”

“You’re royalty. You probably had a governess train you to sing when you were younger and play all manner of instruments.”

“I wouldn't say all manner-” Sebastian tried.

“Uh huh. Still, that is _not_ a bet I’m taking.” Lena kept walking. “Are you implying I’m stupid?”

Nathaniel barked a laugh. “It would seem he is.” He strolled up to his friend. “Perhaps you may have a better chance if you first apologized for your crass behavior my friend.”

“Yes!” Sebastian perked up. “Come with me.” He grabbed Lena’s arm, beginning to pull her along.

“Oi! HEY! YOU, let me go-” Lena growled.

“She said let her go.” Athenril stepped in, gripping his wrist and twisting it until he let go of Lena. Her gaze fierce as she stepped between the two.

“Ah…” Sebastian grunted in pain as he stepped back. He met Athenril’s sharp gaze. A sheen of blue in the low light, her ears perked up and grin dangerous.

“Who do you think you are, _elf_? Touching-” Nathaniel’s hackles rose.

“It’s alright.” Sebastian held a hand up, looking at Lena who said nothing. He noticed her rubbing where he’d gripped. “Lena?”

“Thank you, Athenril.” Lena called. Athenril didn’t back down, merely staring both Sebastian and Nathaniel down. “Athenril.” Lena touched her elbow lightly. She looked down at Lena and gave a short nod as she pulled back. “No need to manhandle me, Sebastian, where did you want to go?”

Sebastian glanced at Athenril, before pursing his lips to hide his smile. “Well...recalling how you so enjoyed the Chant when sung, I thought I would sing you a song as an apology.” He kept the gleam from his eyes, knowing such a thing was appealing to Lena. At least he was humble and kept his head ducked down. If only Lena wasn’t naturally shorter than him.

“Uh-huh...singing. That’s your way of apologizing?” Wobbling her head, she weighed the options. She wouldn’t mind hearing him sing again. But if it’s any Thedosian song, she wouldn’t know it. She’d just have to make sure to keep her reactions in check. Still...a live vocal performance by Sebastian Vael. The only other time she’d heard him sing was behind closed doors and drawn curtains. Usually there was a gag in the way. “Alright, where do we need to go?”

 

* * *

 

They approached the Southernmost wing of the inner keep. Cacophonous sounds, clapping, and singing filtered and echoed from one particular room. Sebastian slowed with a frown. But Lena quirked her head.

“I suppose it was too much to hope it would be empty.” Sebastian deflated.

Nathaniel clapped Sebastian’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should return to my chambers. I’m sure one of the servants can-” Nathaniel suggested but Lena interrupted with a raised hand.

“Wait…” Lena stared at the door to the music room. The tinkling sounds of a harpsichord accompanied by lutes and tambourines came out, but that wasn't what drew her. No it was the voice singing. It had a certain cadence, a certain drawl not native to Thedas. Not as far as she knew.

It vibrated, humming deep into her bones.

_“So I told that kindly gentleman my tale of woe”_

The hairs on her neck rose in a warning to stay away but it made her step closer.

_“Every baby needs a da-da-daddy to keep her worry-free. Every baby needs a da-da-daddy, but where's one for me?”_

“Lena?” Sebastian called.

“I know that song…” Selena mumbled and pressed the door open. Right away she was taken in by the crowd that filled the room.  It was an indoor amphitheatre, with several rows of seating that were packed. People were even standing in the aisles, giggling at the performance.  It sounded like a lute, or some variance. But also tambourines? That wasn’t right. Tambourines were too modern but there were precursors to it.  Lena couldn’t see the stage or over the people blocking her way, so she ducked around.

“Watch it.” Grumbled a woman, but low enough not to disrupt the music.

“Who is playing?” Lena asked, trying to navigate around a particularly portly fellow. He was as wide as she was in her rump.  

“Just a mage.”

“Not just any mage.” Sneered a cultured voice, one Lena recognized instantly and her legs turned to goo.

 _“Some sweet daddy who enjoys Bringing home to baby little diamond toys.”_ The lyrical swooning continued.

Selena looked toward the cultured woman beside her who sent a glare at the man she was working her way around. Madame Vivienne rose an elegant brow.

“The finest Virtuoso of Orlais.” She corrected, with a proud look.

Virtuoso? Lena frowned as she wrangled around another set of legs and came to a point she could view the stage. There was only one person she knew that title could be applied to and that was…”Zither…” She gawked at the mage on the lute. The lightshow behind him. A piano - no harpsichord - beside him with another person who she knew to be named Edmond if memory served. Zither was accompanied by Edmond on the harpsichord, another individual on what looked like a percussion instrument and a dwarf singing. Some sort of activated rune allowed her voice to project or… no.

Lena squinted and leant forward.  She could see the lyrium in effect and somehow she knew what it was doing by the slight skip between sound and the movement of her lips. “Auto-fucking-tune.” She couldn’t believe it. Auto-tune! Enchantment Auto-Tune! Somehow… her previous discovery of using lightning enchantments to charge her iPad didn’t seem quite so amazing. “Motherfucker.”

Selena made eye contact with the dwarf singing. She was blonde, amber-eyed with rich sun-kissed skin. You could feel the warmth just from looking at her. But the moment you made eye contact, Lena felt it. A pull.

Who was she?

The performance came to an end. It wasn’t a long song. Short but the arrangement elongated it, with stretched out vowels and repeated chorus. There was the movements of the dwarf and Zither in question. It was eyebrow raising for sure. The dwarf was wearing a very scandalous mini-skirt that looked like something Shirley Temple should be wearing. It was childlike and meant to evoke innocence, yet with her bosom and shapely figure it evoked a different image entirely.

“Fucking...” Lena grumbled as the song finished and people applauded. She only just noticed that Sebastian and Nathaniel had managed to sit beside her. The room was all humans, save for herself and the other dwarf on stage.

“Thank you, thank you. As always the performance would not be possible if not for the Chantry’s generosity in allowing Zither and the quartet to play.  Please offer your patronage to Alfonse.”  The magical musician took the attention with glee. The blonde dwarf shuffled off to whisper to Edmond on the harpsichord, all the while she sent Lena a look.

Could they be someone like her? Someone trapped in Thedas? Exactly how many people had Rahmi and Daerin had sent here? How many families were missing- Missing persons disappearing under mysterious circumstances. There were hundreds of reports. Was this how? Were there potentially hundreds of Earthfolk here with her? Lena's thoughts jumped a mile a minute.

“Now if anyone has any special requests-”

“I have a question.” Lena didn’t know when she’d get this chance. The room hushed as she stood on the seat. Sebastian went to shush her, but she pushed him off. The singing dwarf turned to her, a smirk playing at her purple lipstick lined lips. As though saying, _this’ll be fun._ “The lyrics specify that every baby needs a daddy. But that’s not true. Every baby needs a mommy. Plenty of babies go all their life without a daddy. Afterall, women don’t need men in their life.” Lena didn’t look at Zither, but at the dwarf.

“Uh… well, I am not the lyricist-” Zither responded with a laugh.

“I know.” Lena didn’t stop. “Because… well you always know who the mother is. So why...should every baby need a daddy, Peggy?”

The dwarf laughed. “My name ain’t Peggy, darlin.”

Lena smirked. The southern and slow drawl from the dwarf all the confirmation she needed. “Really? You look like a Peggy.”

“Naw...I’d say I look more like a Marilyn. Like Miss Monroe.  Got the locks too.” Here the dwarf pushed her hair large Shirley Temple like curls, that were clearly not natural, up.

“Or Shirley.”

The two dwarves laughed, with some secret joke that others in the audience didn’t know. “Sorry folks, dwarf humor.” The dwarf explained to the crowd.

Lena sat back down, a beaming smile at her lips as Zither gave her a critical look over before he asked for requests from the audience. They played a few songs that Lena didn’t recognize, but Sebastian and Nathaniel certainly did. Then “Marilyn” did a few songs Lena knew. Beatles as though it was a folksy song.

There was a brief intermission, that halved the audience as people were well in the “mood” from the way their hands lingered. It was still the pleasure palace.

Sebastian had disappeared to grab some wine, that he and Nathaniel shared while Lena left them when “Marilyn” gestured for her to come on stage while the band went off.

“So…” ‘Marilyn’ smirked. “Didn’t think any of our kind were this far south anymore.”

“Didn’t think there was ‘our kind’ to be honest.” Lena leant forward. “Name’s Selena.”

“Aurora.” They shook hands. Not bow, no kissing of the hand, no formalities. Just a handshake. Lena smiled.

“So, by your accent, yer a yank?”

“Yep. New Jersey. And by your accent you’re from…” Lena couldn’t peg it.

“Tennessee.” Aurora poured a glass of what looked like bubbling black water. “Pop?”

“You’ve got soda?” Lena gawked at the bottle.

“ _Pop_.” Aurora corrected with a smirk. “But sure, nothing like the real thing, but close enough.”

“Oh my goodness, yes.”  Lena took the offered wine glass and let the fizzy stuff tickle her nose and then drank. “Oh man, tastes like warm coke.”

“Does it? Tastes off to be honest.”

“Really? I’ve had some from Coke World in Georgia before. And this is pretty close.”

“Yeah, but after they removed the _coke_.” Aurora explained and sipped her own glass.

Lena choked on the coke. “Sorry what? I’m sorry what?! Coke as in…”  Lena eyed the glass. “...cocaine?”

“Yeah. No one here has figured out how to get that stuff off the leaves, not that they want to. So...one bottle of that stuff costs 10 sovereigns. So enjoy the good stuff.” Aurora sipped her glass. “So, what year ya from?

“Sorry… year?”

“Yeah, all of us were snatched from different years.” Aurora explained. “I’m from 2000. World didn’t end in 99, but at least a Republican got into office.”

“Oh…” Lena stared. “I’m from 2016.”

“Sweet baby jesus.” Aurora’s eyes went wide, downed her glass and poured herself another glass of Coke before downing that too. “What’s the world like?”

Lena cringed. “Not good.”

Aurora nodded. “The world ended in 2012 didn’t it?”

“What- no… just… ugh it’s a long story.” Lena sighed. How do you sum up a decade and a half of history and the impending clusterfuck of a campaign that was beginning?

“Say no more.” Aurora shrugged. “I understand. Had the same problem trying to figure out how best to tell Aster. She’s from the 80s. And from her to Diana, she’s from the 50s.”

“Are they all dwarves?”

“Yeah, every single one of us are dwarves.”

“How many of us are there? And how come I haven’t come across you guys before?”

“You didn’t come across Spice?”

“Spice? Whose spice?” Lena squinted.

“Spice, last I heard, had taken up residence in Kirkwall. She never said what year she was from.”

“Huh?” Lena meant to ask where to find her but people were beginning to filter in, so she lowered her voice.

“Tell ya what.” Aurora pulled a parchment out and a pencil from a bag.  Lena wondered how long she’d been here. “You seem a decent sort. Me and the band are playing at all the Marcher Tourneys.  Then we headline at the Grand Tourney before we head down to Nevarra and Orlais. Don’t suppose you could meet me at the Grand Tourney? I’ll see if I can gather the others, for a good proper get together.”

“The Grand Tourney…” Lena eyed the written date. She’d have to check her calendar “You use roman numerals, too.”

“It’s all they use in the circles. Just easier to use what they use.” Aurora shrugged.

“Not if I can help it.” Lena mumbled. Aurora's brows furrowed in concern. 

“Now…” Aurora slid the paper across. “Seeing as how this is the pleasure palace, how about we throw some good ole fashioned American charm at them in the form of music.”

“I’m not a very good singer.”

“Oh, bless your heart.” Aurora smirked.

“I know that’s not meant to be a compliment.” Lena deadpanned. “Besides, I doubt we know the same songs.”

“You like musicals.”

“Well...yes.”

“Pick one. I’m from the heart of Country music but that don’t mean I didn’t study the music of the Big Apple.”

Lena leaned back. “Would the band know how to play along?”

“They’re pretty good at improvisation.”

“Hmm.” Lena clicked her tongue against her teeth looking to the dwindled audience as Sebastian and Nathaniel with rosy cheeks sat back down. Sebastian sent her a wanton smile, mouthing her title. “Have you ever heard of Chicago?”

Aurora’s slow smile was all that she needed. “Which song?”

“When You’re Good to Mama.”

 

* * *

 

Lena giggled as she led the way out of the amphitheatre. Aurora picking up a modified Cell Block Tango. She could hear women giggling over the lyrics and snorted as she made her way through the corridors.

Behind her trailed one enthralled client and his best friend. She sent a look over her shoulders as she skipped. She was an in a positively grand mood. And, if she could admit it, was _in the mood_ too. Which pleased Sebastian greatly.  He hovered close enough for him to breathe her in. He was close enough that she only had to stop for half a second to give a teasing grope through his trousers.

“We ought to head back to my quarters if both of you keep looking at me like that.” Lena turned, walking backwards ahead of them.

“Is that a proposition, Mama?” Sebastian’s burr came rumbling out. His dark gaze heady and lips wet.  Lena snapped her mouth shut knowing she had invited the title be used more publicly with her song selection.

“For a price, it can be.” Lena cooed back as she made a right.

“But Mama-” Nathaniel snorted over the title, his face unable to remain serious. “There are two of us, how will you _ever_ manage to appease the both of us at once? Especially given our...” Nathaniel looked at Sebastian. “...shared predicaments.”  

“I’m fairly confident in my abilities.” she turned and raked her gaze down both of them to their crotches.  She stepped to them both. “I am quite skilled at multitasking, as you should know by now.” Her hands trailed up their thighs where she cupped Sebastian, who expected it but Nathaniel’s cheeks went red before he glanced up at Sebastian with a silent question of permission. While they had shared a night together, even that night had primarily been focused on Nathaniel.

“Very capable.” Sebastian reiterated for his companion.

Nathaniel released a controlled breath as Lena walked away.  She turned down another corner.  Waiting a moment, he stopped Sebastian.

“You’re just the same as always.” He shook his head, somewhat disappointed in his friend. “Priesthood hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“It has, I assure you.”

“Yet you’re still cohorting around with...” Nathaniel squinted. “...whores.”

“No. Just the one.”

“Just the one?” Nathaniel started at the implication.

Sebastian opened his mouth to explain but Lena’s head popped around the corner.

“You best hurry and follow, else if you take too long I may have all the fun with myself.” Lena teased and laughed as she disappeared around the corner again.

“I will explain. One day perhaps but… _Mama_ doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Sebastian urged as he followed after the Madame. Nathaniel could only shake his head as he trailed after them.

Lena could hear their hurried footsteps behind her as she skipped through the corridors.  Her feet light as she giggled. Perhaps she drank a bit too much coke, but she was absolutely giddy at the possibility of having two men to command in bed again. Images of Sebastian on his knees servicing her and Nathaniel behind Sebastian seeking pleasure in him, made her hot under her collar at least until a sound had her pause.

“You will do as I say, wench.” A slap echoed down the corridor and Lena stopped skipping as there came a muffled scream. It was a splash of frigid cold water.

“Please- no- mmhhmmm.”

“Oooh so slick and wet.”

Lena’s blood ran cold as she heard another slap, this one obscene and familiar.

“You’re enjoying this, I can see it in your face.”

Lena stepped as quietly as she could toward the sound. A pair of bodies could be seen in a distant alcove. Her gaze on the reflective green elven eyes that were staring out dead into the world.

“Ah, bit of a voyeur are you? Madame?” Nathaniel snickered behind her. Lena lowered her chin.

“Reminds me of my younger days back home.” Sebastian whispered, so as not to disturb the couplet. Lena snapped her gaze at him.

“I refuse to believe there is any part of that castle that you haven’t partook in or on with the servants.” Nathaniel joked.

Lena’s fists clenched.

“Ah, that only continued until I was a young man. My parents forbade me from distracting the servants. Pity really.” Sebastian mused.

“We have to stop him.” Lena growled.

Both men laughed, but upon seeing her serious expression, “What?” they mirrored each other. Lena hissed and went to move forward. Sebastian grasped her arm, stilling her. She glared until he let go.

Her steps were lighter, movements practiced in shifting her body so as not to draw the eye. Too many nights walking in the dark trying not to alert her mother across the hall and then trying not to wake the other whores in the Rose.  It wasn’t enough as she was no bard or rogue so she made noise, yet neither participant of the assault in progress noticed. Not until she was bearing down on them.  The serving girl’s eyes widened at Lena who grasped the nobleman’s shoulders and with every bit of strength she had in her, tossed the man down to the floor. Selena pounced on top of him, and pressed the dagger she removed from her corset to his throat.

“Men like you _disgust_ me.” Were her first words, they growled and reverberated around the stone. The faint blue glow of her eyes were the last thing the man saw before she gripped his hair and smacked his head against the stone. He let out a shout and groan as she did it again.

She hadn’t secured his arms in her anger.  He pushed her off. She went flying back.  The nobleman scrambled up.

“What is the meaning of this?! If the Propser hears about this.”

“Lord Montford will not find out about this.” Athenril’s voice was as smooth as the daggers she pressed two daggers against him. One at his neck and the other at his back. “Not unless you wish your father to know of your _extended_ visit to the Retreat.”

“Who do you think you are? I am-”

“Childless.” Lena snarked as she stood up, leering at him. She eyed Athenril and the dagger the elf held up to his throat.

“What?”

“You. Are. Childless.” Lena growled and used the heel of her palm to hit him in his solar plexus. He grunted and doubling over giving Lena an unprotected shot at his nose and then groin. Her right hand heel went right to his nose, breaking it and then she spared no expense at dealing a double blow to his groin.  Athenril smirked as she hefted the man back and whispered in his ear.

“You best run off before your father finds out. Or perhaps Lord La Foix should take a _special_ interest in your affairs.” Athenril added.

“Non!” The man shivered.

“Get. Lost.” Lena spat and the nobleman ran off. Athenril and Lena watched him go in silence, an unspoken camaraderie between them as they nodded. Athenril stepped around Lena to help the girl cover her modesty. Lena left her to it, not used to consoling others.

“You should have let them be.” Sebastian spoke once he and Nathaniel caught up.

“They were just having fun.” Nathaniel shrugged.

“Didn’t look very fun for her.” Selena hissed.

“Oh that’s just the way they are.” Nathaniel grinned.

“Submissive.” Sebastian grinned at Lena in that way he knew she liked. When she didn’t return it, his brows furrowed.

“They don’t start to moan and wiggle until you give them a few swats.” Nathaniel explained.

“You cannot be serious.” Lena ground out.

“You of all people should know this.” Nathaniel exasperated.

“Excuse me?” Lena snapped.

“You’re a-” Sebastian cleared his throat when her glare pierced him into silence.

“A Madame.” Nathaniel’s finished. “A whore.”  

“Yes. So that means I know what a face should look like when they are _willing_ and _enjoying_ it.”

“She’s just an elf.” Nathaniel shrugged. “You know elven girls. They all want it.”  

“Just an elf? _Just an elf?!_  I suppose I’m _just_ a dwarf.”

“You’re different. You’re not like the other dwarves I’ve met.” Sebastian tried.

Lena’s neck gave an audible crack when she turned to Sebastian. _Not like other dwarves. Not like other Hispanics. Not like other Mexicans, Not like other Puerto Ricans. Not like other girls. Not like other women._

“What are the other dwarves like per say?” Lena snapped. “You know what, no. Don’t answer that.” Lena growled. Her fingers clenched tightly around her dagger.

“You should have let them be. The purpose of the Chateau is to grant privacy to do what you want. It was rude to interrupt.” Nathaniel tried to reason with her on an etiquette basis.

“Rude? Rude to interrupt him _molesting_ her?!” She hissed in a harsh whispered breath. “Rude to stop him from _raping_ her?”

“She liked it. Didn’t you?” Nathaniel poised the question to the shivering elf. There was no response. Nathaniel gave a frustrated sigh. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong. That’s what she’s there for.” Nathaniel tried to calm her anger but her head snapped back in offense.

“What she’s there for?” Lena took a forced breath, suddenly remembering what she’d caught him almost doing the night before. “Like she’s just a piece of meat? Is that it? Like she was nothing but a warm cunt and pair of tits for you to fuck whenever you want?”

“I wouldn’t put it so crassly-” Nathaniel wrinkled his nose, affronted by her language.

“Wouldn’t put it so crassly?!” Her voice rose, left hand clenching at a phantom neck.  “So if I were to say that you’re only good for fucking - to be just a dick for my pleasure.” She spat at him, hand in her corset. “Would that be so crass? Would you enjoy that sort of thought and treatment about you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind such a life. Aye Sebastian?” Nathaniel smirked and nudged Sebastian but the Royal Archer didn’t agree with him. He was quiet, drawing back.

“You wouldn’t mind?” She gave a cruel laugh. ”Oh...well then let's make your dream come true.” Lena advanced on him with as much force as she could until his back hit the wall. Her dagger pressed to his groin. He shouted but stilled once he felt where it pressed against. “I’ll just cut off your dick then. Seeing as how that’s _all_ you’re good for.” She growled.

“Lena-” His throat clenched with fear.

“Oh...you don’t like that do you? Don’t like to be thought of as just your _parts._ Welcome to the _fucking club_.” She withdrew, disgust in her snarl as she backed up. She thought it was done, thought he got the point.  She thought wrong.

“She’s here to perform a service. A service that man was enjoying and you-” Nathaniel now was angry and pointing at her. His male bravado giving him the courage. He didn’t have his sword on him or dagger. He thought he’d be safe. “You interrupted. Do you even know what it’s like to be denied-”

Lena rolled her eyes, already knowing where he was going. “Release? Satisfaction?”  She gestured around them, to herself, to Athenril, to even the elven girl now covered up.  “All the fucking time. But that doesn’t mean we violently seek out men to get our release. Most of us don’t fucking force men to have sex with us, because it’s _wrong_. Because it’s not how we want to be treated.” Lena jabbed her dagger in the air.  “But I guess you missed that part of my reciprocity song.”

“We make you release when we do. You’ve orgasmed on me.” Nathaniel spat at her. “And I seem to recall you fondling me under the table not some nights ago.”

“And if you’d said no at any given time. I would have stopped.” Lena spat back. “That's the difference. You say no, and the woman is supposed to back off. But if a woman says no- Oh, _it’s not what she really means.  I’ll make her want it.  It’s not rape if she orgasms._ ”

“That's right.” Nathaniel pounced up, thinking she was agreeing with him. “If she has an orgasm, she wanted it.” Nathaniel smirked, as though he had her beat. “Just like you did. Sebastian paid you to perform that service. You wanted it, didn’t she Sebastian.” Nathaniel looked to his friend for some backup but Sebastian was silent, contemplative and distant.  

“Oh my fucking god.” Lena wanted to punch him. “You realize, it is my job to know how best to make someone orgasm. I’ve studied the body and let me tell you boy, you don’t even have to want it to be able to orgasm. And it’s not like a woman hasn’t ever faked an orgasm before.” Lena growled.

“Fake an orgasm?” Nathaniel sputtered and rolled his eyes. “No one can fake an orgasm.”

Lena raised a brow at him, her anger nearly dying at the ridiculousness of his assumption. Instead she took a steadying breath and met his eye. “Oh can’t they?”

Crude and overzealous she increased the intake of her breath. The anger almost all but gone in her body language. “Ooh.” She moaned, never once breaking eye contact with him. Lips wet with a flick of her tongue as she gave another moan, chest heaving. “Hmmm. Ah-Ah… Nnngh. Yes. Ooooh fuck yessss uh-uh!” Lena did her best impression of her own orgasm, sounds, hisses, and all.

Sebastian looked up with shock and recognition. He knew those sounds, knew them from every Tuesday.  Her sounds grew in pitch, in fever until she stopped, all the while staring Nathaniel down. He was gobsmacked.

Lena gave an exaggerated bow for her performance. “A woman can fake an orgasm if it will make her attacker go away faster. If they think she wants it, maybe he’ll get off faster, maybe it won’t hurt so much anymore.”

The silence in the hall was deafening after that. The elven girl had her hands pressed to her ears and Athenril was wiping away the fluids from her thighs.

For another moment, Lena thought he got the point this time for sure. He had to - until.

“You were paid.”

“What?”

“You were paid for a service and you did what you had to-”

“Are you fucking kidding me-”

“To get us off. If that means you faked your orgasm, so be it. But you still did your job. Her job is also to provide that service.”

“Her job is to be a servant.”

“At the _pleasure_ palace.”

“Oh. So _sorry_ , your lordship.” Lena ramped up the sarcasm. “Didn’t realize she was a slave with no choice in the matter.”

“She’s not a slave. She is paid.” Nathaniel snapped back at her.

“Right… she’s paid.” She gestured at the girl. “So she’s paid to be slapped?” The elven girl flinched, causing both men to look her way.  “To be harassed? Molested? _Raped_ ?”  The girl let out a whimper and curled into Athenril’s side. The words were a splash of cold water to Sebastian as he paled and looked down, ashamed. “Did that really look like someone who enjoyed it? Oh wait, let me make it easier for you. Imagine if she was a noblewoman. Imagine if she was your sister or your mother. Imagine if she was _human_.”

“She could have said no.” Nathaniel crossed his arms, but there was an uncomfortable tenseness to his shoulders at her last words.

“Is she really allowed to say no in this situation? Or does her job hinge on _enduring_ the master’s guests? Is there compensation for such additional unwilling services?” Lena bared her teeth. When there was no response, no indication of a change of thought in Nathaniel’s demeanor she shook her head. The air was beyond thick with tense “You should leave.”

“I will not be ordered around by some upstart dwarfess. You will show me respect. I am the son of Lord Rendon Howe of-”

“And the apple fell straight down from that family tree. You're _exactly_ like your father.” Lena spat back. “Leave.”

“I will do no such thing.” Nathaniel growled.

“I SAID LEAVE.” Lena roared. Her eyes flashed blue and the world trembled and quaked.

Nathaniel drew back as if shocked. Sebastian gave a strangled groan but began to leave nonetheless. Nathaniel gaped at her, mouth and eyes wide.

Lena just barely caught her own reflection. The familiar lyrium blue glow of her eyes should have spiked her heart rate in fear but she turned back on Nathaniel.  With a guttural growl, she advanced on him. He fled the scene in the direction Sebastian went.

Once they were out of sight, Lena’s tensed shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. She turned toward Athenril,

“Please…” whimpered the servant. Lena looked back at her as she cowered into the corner of the alcove.

“It’s okay.” She said and sheathed her dagger, slipping it back into her corset. “It’s alright. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“It is not you I worry about.” Came her simpering words, tears at her. “The Duke-”

“The Duke will do nothing.” Athenril said as she knelt by her. “Not about this.” Athenril looked at Lena.

“How do you know that?” Lena asked slow. By Athenril’s grim expression, Lena didn’t want to know.

“Come, we should get her to our quarters.” Athenril stood.

“Wait, shouldn’t we take her to the servant’s quarters?” Lena asked.

Athenril shook her head. “No. Dip will want to know about this.”

 

* * *

 

“Sylvia!” Serendipity rushed into Lena’s quarters, falling to her knees besides the elven girl.

Lena had been curious why Serendipity needed to be informed, until that moment. The resemblance was uncanny, down to the shape of their eyes and even jaw structure.

“She’s your daughter?” Lena gawked as Denier stepped into the room as well with a frown.

“Mother!” Sylvia sobbed and let Dip wrap her up.

“Oh by the Maker, Lena, thank you. Thank you.” Serendipity kissed each of Sylvia’s cheeks, checking her over. “He didn’t…” The question was left open and Sylvia shook her head. “Thank you.”

“So…” Denier nudged Lena who was perched on the furthest chair, watching the exchange. “Who was it?”

“Truthfully, don’t care. Some noble prick.”

“Yes, well you might not care but a nobleman’s son is attacked for touching an elf. Someone will pay, and it’ll be the servants, unless he waits till Kirkwall, then it will be the alienage.” Denier grumbled. “Damn humans.”

Lena sent him a frown. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

“Thats cause humans won’t touch dwarves, not like that. But elves…” Denier frowned.

“Free game.” Lena sighed rubbing her temples. “Fuck. He just kept saying if his father hears about this… freaking _Malfoy_.”

“Malfoy?”

“Uh...not his name.” Lena waved off. “Shit...Athenril threatened him like she knew him.”

“She probably does then.” Denier stepped toward Dip and Sylvia, kneeling down. “You okay?”

“Now I am, father.” Sylvia muttered and slowly reached toward Denier’s arms, where he tucked her against his chest.

“Father?” Lena’s eyes popped wide open, staring at Sylvia. She noticed the girl’s dress was ripped and stained. She hadn’t seen how far the man had gotten with her, but she knew there was emergency sap - just in case. She didn’t want to ask how far. The matter was delicate enough without her being insensitive, so she turned away and headed for the bedroom.  There should be concentrated witherstalk sap in her lockbox.

The room was dark but she knew where it was. Stepping low, she grabbed it only to pause when she saw Dopey scurry.

“Hey there buddy. Might want to stay in here.” She cooed, only it hissed at her. Legs curling under and body shivering.  “What’s wrong?” Lena reached a hand out but stopped upon seeing the glowing lyrium blue sweat droplets on her hand.

Stumbling back, she looked at both her hands. The sweat building up. “What the…” her hand pressed to her forehead came back wet and clammy.

Hands shaking, she shook her head and opened her lockbox. Quickly locating the concentrated sap, she stood on shaky legs. The dark room swayed.

“Hey.” She called out as she stepped out of the room. “Give her some of this...just...just incase.” She held out the bottle as Athenril walked in. Denier stood to grab the bottle but Lena wasn’t paying attention, instead Athenril locked eyes with her. Athenril gasped clutching her chest in pain.  “I don’t feel so go-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for being patient with me.
> 
> This chapter has been in the works since... bloody hell forever ago. And I hate that I haven't finished this 'Chateau Haine' book in 2017 and I am paying for it now. Lots of IRL stuff went down the last three months. My last semester at school, SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), and the craziness of the company I work for fully transitioning to our new parent company's system, and of course Holiday stuff. 
> 
> Some of you will be shocked by the development in this chapter. The blatant racist and sexist behavior by Nathaniel and Sebastian, but I want ya'll to remember way back. When Sebastian first purchased Lena. He didn't ask her what she wanted, merely assumed she had to do her job. Even going so far as to chase her around the room. Also remember Sebastian (and Nathaniel) are rich nobility. Those sorts got away with a lot. We like to think that our favorites couldn't possibly be that way but given the environment, the clear prejudice against the poor and elves, they would have been raised to not see them as a full person. Sure later on they do, but it's akin to the same sorts of people who go "Oh all brown people are wetbacks, but Jose down the street... no no he's hard working." the whole "Not _my_ n*gro/sp*c" sentiment. 
> 
> Remember this when looking back on this chapter. They always seem nice, that they wouldn't be racist or sexist, up until you see them treat others like you. Or even others different from you and them. That's what I was trying to show with this chapter. And also how old friends from those environments can bring out the really bad behaviors in you. Nathaniel is that sort, even though Sebastian was the one committing and encouraging those types of behaviors back in the castle.
> 
> You didn't think Lena was the only one like her did you? Well here ya go. More on the others....eventually. 
> 
> You'll notice I added a new AO3 warning. The "Rape/Non-con" warning.


	53. Late Intermission: Divergent Webbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late intermission to check in on Varric and the whereabouts of a certain hawk.

There were a lot mistakes in Varric’s life. None of which were his fault. It was always Bartrand at the root of it.

Bianca left him at the altar to marry Vasca. For tradition and money. Who introduced the Davri’s to the Vascas? Bartrand.

Bartrand made a deal with the Coterie that Varric knew was wrong. Making House Tethras indebted to Harlan.

His mother drank herself to sickness. She was an alcoholic who was drunk in public and damaged the Tethras name. Bartrand ordered Varric to “collect” their mother instead of getting her help.

His nephew was another thing Bartrand messed up. He wanted nothing to do with Rorrik because he’d had it with a second generation surfacer. They weren’t “pure” enough for him. Surfacers were born with no stone sense. Bartrand claimed he still had his.

And now, his brother was going to cause another mistake.  Ruin someone else for Varric. Someone he didn't want Bartrand to even know.

_Lena._

“That woman. What was her name?” Bartrand asked as the tailor cinched a cuff and loosened it.  

“I have my own tailor, you know.” Varric scoffed, ignoring his brother’s question. He had to be fitted for his brother’s engagement party. Bartrand insisted he’d pay for it. _You have to at least look the part,_ Bartrand had insisted.

“Yes.” He gave Varric’s usual clothing a look up and down where they sat in a messy bundle. “And look how you dress on the daily, wrinkled and disheveled.” Bartrand grumbled. “Just let the man do his job.” Bartrand tutted.

Silence stretched.

“But the woman.  From the Keep. Selia? Selen?”

“ _Madame_ Selena.” Varric corrected. He regretted it the second Bartrand smiled.

“She’s not really your wife.”

It was a statement, but the way Bartrand looked at Varric let him know he expected a confirmation.

“Not that it matters if she is or isn’t.” Varric shrugged the tunic into place, checking the sleeve length. The collar was stifling. Stitched closed and didn’t let his chest breath at all. It was _torture_.

“I want to make sure you didn’t elope without approval.” Bartrand pulled the tunic on. It wasn’t extravagant. This was just an engagement part, but it’s dark colors with embroidered vibrant golds and reds showed the wealth he was willing to spend.

Bartrand knew the exchange in the Keep had been all theatre. Clever use of gossip to get ahead of the line. He also wouldn’t put it past his brother if he had married Selena. Even if she was a prostitute. Just for the sheer scandal of it and to get out of his own arrangement.

“Why would I bother with _your_ approval?” Varric shook his leg when the tailor pinned too close to his crotch. “Watch it.”

“If you did.” Bartrand straightened the tunic, eyeing his reflection in the mirror. He nodded in approval but then frowned when the sleeve didn’t ride up enough. “Cut the length.” He pointed at the sleeve and the tailor nodded. “What was I saying?”

Varric didn’t feel like reminding him. He wouldn’t be here if he had a choice. He'd spent his allowance and wouldn't get an advance if he didn't do his family duties.

“If you did, the Guild would get involved. We’d lose ties if you had married her.” Bartrand sneered. “Do you how long I’ve been negotiating this arrangement?”

“Too long.” Varric mumbled.

“They are considering accepting.” Bart smiled.

Varric stilled, horrified. He couldn’t think of anything worse than being _married_ to a Helmi. “For what? So I can be like you?” Varric wanted nothing to do with this conversation. Marriage had only ever been something he wanted with Bianca.

It was different for Lena. They weren't actually married. She wasn't exactly the marrying type or someone he would marry. Not that he'd let Bartrand know that. Or Lena for that matter.

The assumptions his friends made was to get her riled up. He liked her when she was annoyed. She was feisty when she was ticked off with him. Not to mention it kept all the other dwarves away from Lena. He doubted she wanted to be hounded after with marriage proposals from every Ascendant this side of the Waking Sea. So a rumor here and there took care of that.

“No.” Bartrand turned to his little brother. “It’s so you respect Father’s wishes. You know this entire thing started because of him? He reached out to the Helmis when you were still in Mother’s womb.”

“And he died. Why should I follow some plan father set out for me before I was even born. He’s rotting away along with Orzammar traditions.” Varric spat. “We don’t have to follow _their_ customs.”

Bartrand jabbed at Varric, his voice low and threatening. “We do if you want to keep your lifestyle, Varric.”

Varric turned away.  He knew where this was going and did not want to hear this old song and dance again.

“Who do you think pays for every one of your lavish whims? Or funds your ridiculous purchases of decrepit warehouses left and right.” Bartrand grabbed Varric’s shoulder, pulling him back. “While you traipse around playing rogue in the shadows with your ‘spy network’ ” Bartrand advanced, not letting Varric get a word in. Not that Varric had anything to add. His lips pressed tight as Bartrand continued. “Everything I do for this family — for our legacy — is made harder with every one of your flights of fancy that costs coin. The least you can do is honor mother’s memory.”

The tailors had long since stopped working on them, opting to pull back with the increased tension.

Varric gritted his teeth. “You don’t get to judge what honors mother’s memory. You weren’t there—”

“When she died?” Bartrand growled. “You’re right. I wasn’t. Because I was out there. Working.”

“‘Working.’” Varric gestured the air quotes. “Going to socials and hosting galas is working now.  Give me a break. You grasped what little semblance of precious Orzammar life you can achieve.” Varric huffed. “We’re _surfacers_. Orzammar kicked our house out. When are you going to get over it.”

“When you _grow up_.” Bartrand seethed.  His knuckles popped.

They stared each other down.

“Message, ser..ah.”  The door to the tailor shop closed with the jingle of the bell.  Both dwarves snapped to glower at Hugin and Munin. Loyal twin servants to House Tethras that followed them when they were exiled out of Orzammar.  Their family had been loyal to House Tethras since it's inception.

“What?” Both Varric and Bartrand snapped.

“It’s for Varric, word from serah Harrowmont. An emergency at the Chateau.”

 

* * *

 

The harvest came in early this year. It was a relief for Malcolm. Funds were low from the harsh winter. Bethany had an accident that nearly costed them the barn. She was still learning to control her magic. Normally he would have had her brother help, but it was a delicate matter best handled by her mother. She was going through adolescence. He remembered the first stirrings of lust in his youth. For male mages it was small explosions daily. Manageable every morning. But for girls, he grimaced. He remembered what it was like in the Kirkwall circle during those times of the months.  

Malcolm shook his head as he raised the scythe to cut the oats down. This would not be noteworthy on any normal farm, if it wasn’t for the several rows of scythes made of pure fade energy being raised up with the swing of his physical one. It was just enough to gain momentum. They swung and cut down the oats.

No one from the road would be able to see him this far into the fields but he took care to only raise the scythes so high. The scythe acted as his staff, at least while working. There were other tools, infused with channeling cores and properties so even he could still practice magic. It also taught his mageling children the uses of magic outside of being a soldier, healer, or court jester for the Chantry. They need not fear magic.

Still. This was not the life he imagined for himself twenty-three years ago. Toiling a farm, dirty, sweaty, even if made easier with magic. His back ached and popped whenever he moved. The sun baked his already dark skin darker over the years. His hands rough, scarred, and calloused. He expected all of this as part of the life he dreamed of twenty-three years ago. But it was not the method he thought it would happen.

He thought he would return to his tribe with Leandra in tow. She wouldn’t have it. Living a nomadic life. Travelling, always fearing the local strange Templars. She wanted a cottage. He gave her one. Until Garrett came into his magic in full view of the village at barely three years old.

They ran. He was happiest then. They found his tribe, his mother, his family. He remembered the wilders from his childhood. But his father had whisked him away, to live in ‘society.’ To learn to be a part of civilization, away from a barbaric life. Until he came into his magic, then it was off to the Circle.

He honed his craft, his heritage. The tribe taught all children equally in the event any of them came into magic they would be ready and unscared. Usually, they were sent to the Witch to learn magic proper once they were realized, but he didn’t have that.  Still he remembered tales of the Witch of the Wilds. He told them to Leandra when they ran.

And then, they came across her. Flemeth.

“Father!” Marian called his attention as she hefted the two large bundle of oats on her back. “I’ve been calling you for several minutes, now.”

Marian was his eldest. If only by a few moments. She was no mageling like her brother and sister, but she was remarkable. Strong, tall, and every bit like the stubborn woman he married. But where Leandra was stubborn and cautious, Marian was brash and stubborn.

Every time her blue eyes twinkled, it reminded him of his father. Up until her lips raised in a smirk, then he saw his wife. Until Marian showed her true strength.  She’d never been the dainty daughter Leandra had wanted. Instead she was every bit a Hawke. She craved the outdoors, loved exploring, and new experiences.

When they first had to run, he thought she would miss her friends in the village. Instead, she took it as an adventure. _“Are we going to find the witch, papa?”_ Perhaps those hadn’t been the best bedtime stories to tell her.

“Carver’s got the druffalo and rams in, he’s getting the eggs for the Mattrins. It smells like rain and mother wants _one_ of us to pop into town for missives.” Marian spoke, indicating she would not be going into town.

He suspected it had to do with Alison. He’d caught Marian and Alison sharing a kiss out behind Barlin’s fields. And then Marian caught Alison kissing another boy. She’d been sore and angry ever since.

“Alright.” Malcolm sighed, brushing his hands off on his trousers. “Finish the field and I’ll head into town.” He headed toward the cottage. Marian trailed after him. “Did she say what she needed?”

“Needles, flint, ink, a whetstone.” Marian recited duly. “Oh and buttons.”

“Buttons? We can whittle some from wood-”

“Fancy buttons. Made of pearls,” she deadpanned. “For my dress. For Summerday.” Marian rolled her eyes.

“Ah. She’s still on about that.” Malcolm chuckled.

“Unfortunately.” Marian grumbled.

“Don’t worry dillydowne, I’ll keep all the boys away from you.” He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Or he would have if she wasn’t so Maker-damned tall. His kiss ended up on her cheek.

“You could leave some of those boys for me you know.” Garrett pouted from his spot outside, where he was sweeping the cobblestones.

“Only if you make sure the girls come to me.” Marian quipped back. She tossed the bundle of oats down.

Malcolm shook his head at his first set of twins.

“What about girls?” Carver joined the conversation. A pail of fresh milk in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other. His arm scratched up and bleeding.

“Oh, Carver,” Garrett set his broom aside. “Did Ser Cluckins get you again?” Garrett grabbed the basket of eggs and set them down. He pulled his younger brother’s arm out to examine.

“She’s _never_ liked me.” Carver grumbled as Garrett’s hands lit up with healing magic. Malcolm instantly looked to the road, fear lacing down his spine but there was no one.

“Clearly you’ve pissed her off. Ser Cluckins never pecks at me.” Marian taunted.

“That’s because you feed her-urgh.” Carver groaned in pain when Marian stomped on his foot.

“Children.” Malcolm warned, but did little to stop it. At this point it was more of a formality. When they were much younger, Carver grew fast and towered over Marian, until she had her last growth spurt. Now she was an inch, maybe two, taller than Carver and wielded it whenever she could.  Malcolm had never expected Marian to be quite so tall. Certainly his own mother was tall, but nothing like this. He could recall her short and lithe frame as a girl. Of course she was always covered in bruises and scratches.

“She started it.” Carver complained.

“Did not.” Marian bumped her shoulder against Carver. The pail of milk sloshed. Both of them were always antagonistic of each other. Everything was always a competition. Who could sow the most, who could run the fastest, who could chop the most wood.

Malcolm sent them a withering look and they stopped. Carver let Garrett grab the pail to take in.

“Sorry, father.”

“Ah there you are.” Leandra came out of the cottage. Their mabari, Dane, trailed after her as she came forward with a slip of paper. “I’ve written down everything we’ll need.

“Needles, flint, ink, quill pen. If the smithy has spare whetstone, if not we’ll manage. Ginger, turnips, cod liver oil, dried deep mushrooms, salt, peppercorn, and if perchance some sugar.”

“Leandra, darling. Sugar? This far south?” Malcolm gave her a bemused smile.

“Danal had it last time.” Leandra pursed her lips. “If he doesn’t, see if he can keep a pouch or two next time.  I only need a handful.” She pulled a small purse of coins from her apron and handed it to him.

Bethany came out with a small wooden cup steaming with fresh elfroot tea.

“Have some tea first- OH!”  She tripped over her feet, a bolt of lightning coming from her feet and a shake of the ground. The tea went flying.  Bethany’s cheeks flushed as Marian and Carver snickered. Garrett cast a spell to freeze the tea midair. “Sorry!” Bethany mumbled, horrified. She was still growing.

All his children were tall. Every single one of them. Marian at the tallest, Carver after her, Garrett was his own height, and Bethany was quickly surpassing her mother. Which meant, the clumsiness associated with rapid growth.

“It’s alright.” Garrett tried to placate the youngest Hawke, but Bethany was flustered and irritated. Garrett had come into his magic very young. Even in the circles it was rare for a mageling to show any sign of magic that young.  Typical signs were eye color change, auras, perhaps even bubbles coming out. With Garrett it had been healing. Marian had been running, as boisterous as she was and had tripped. Her face covered in blood. Garrett had waddled over to her, hand on her cheek and healed it. Sophisticated magic for one so young, but not unheard of. Especially between twins. But where Garrett had developed a natural aptitude for magic, Bethany did not have it so easy. An explosion of fire and ice at nine years old in the midst of a tantrum. Uncontrollable and lacking subtlety, but displayed the sheer power behind her.

Bethany still found it difficult to control her abilities with the last of her growth spurts. Hence why she rarely left the cottage. She feared losing control and forcing the family to run again, despite it being years. She had nightmares. Initially, Malcolm worried they were demons. He’d taken a look in with a window. His heart clenched tight when he learned she held nightmares of being the cause of Templars coming for them. Of the Templars making Malcolm tranquil and of Garrett forced to heal on battlefields to settle squabbles between nobles. Bethany feared the same fate for herself, but she’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant her family would stay free.

“Oh, shove it.” Bethany snapped and stormed back into the house.

“Leave her to me,” Leandra stilled Malcolm from following Bethany. He didn’t doubt her.

“Well, I’m off.”  Malcolm called to the rest of his children. “Perhaps if a field or two are done by the time I come back, there may be a treat.” He called, causing both Marian and Carver to stop punching each other and look at him.

“What sort of treat?” they mirrored.

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see.” Malcolm smiled. “Mayhaps I’ll stop by to see Elder Miriam.” It meant there would be cookies or Orlesian delights. Arl Leonas had no desire for such things. Having chosen a Ferelden life, he sent any treats he received from his Orlesian side of the family out to the elders in the arling.

Marian and Carver looked at each other, then out to the field.

“Race you.” Carver suggested but Marian had already taken off toward the field. “Hey wait!” Carver called. “We were supposed to count down! Cheat!”

Malcolm laughed. He had an empty sack thrown over his shoulder and a small purse at his belt. The sun hadn’t reached noon yet, but once it did he’d be sweating up a storm. Perhaps he’ll stop in the Refuge for a pint or two. He felt his purse. Maybe just one pint.

The walk into Lothering proper was quick. It wasn’t a market day, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t visit Barlin or see Butcher Evans.

“Hawke!” Danal called from the refuge with a smile. “Was about to send the boy to fetch you.”

“Oh?” Malcolm smiled. “Got sugar in?”

“What? Oh they’ll be a shipment coming in.  Tell Leandra not to worry, but you received a package.”

“A package?” Malcolm’s brows furrowed.

“Aye, come in.” Danal’s lips were pressed tight. Malcolm didn’t wait as he stepped into Dane’s store.

“It arrived late last night by Draco Express.” Danal explained as he pulled up a small paper wrapped box. The package was address to him and Leandra and was post-marked in Kirkwall, then in Jader, and once again in Denerim.

“Draco Express?” Malcolm’s brows rose in surprise.

“The rider damn near spooked me as it rode in on a dracolisk.” He continued. “Never seen one of em upclose like that.” Danal shivered. “Had to sign for it.”

“How much did it cost?” Malcolm asked, worried now.

“Nothing.”

“ _Nothing_?” The Draco Express required both the sender and receiver to pay a bit of the fee.  It was a service mostly used in Tevinter and Orlais, but there was at least one branch in Ferelden and a few in the Marches. They were expensive and only used when the package was meant to be protected. The dracolisk scared off most bandits, and the riders themselves were skilled. Whoever had sent this, clearly wanted to be sure it got to Lothering.

“Weirdest thing innit? Who do you know that can afford such?”

“Haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps it’s a mistake?” He tried. The package made him sweat.  Could it be from the Wardens? Was it time again? His palms sweat. Or was it the Witch?

“Well, you going to open it?” Danal asked. Clearly he was curious. The strange circumstance around the package would have anyone curious.

“Not sure. I think I might have the Templars take a look. It might be cursed you know. I hear only magisters use the Draco Express.” It was a lie, but a believable one. Mages used it too.

“Ooh. That’s smart. Didn’t think of that.” Danal looked worried. “You don’t think…”

“I’m sure you’re fine.” Malcolm assured him that he likely hadn't been cursed.

Malcolm desperately wanted to grab the package and head back to the farm, but it would rouse too much suspicion. “I have a list, if you don’t mind.” Malcolm pulled the slip of parchment out. Danal nodded and set about collecting the items in the store. It wasn’t much of a large store, just bits and bobs that were ordered from Denerim. If Danal didn’t have it, then a trip to Redcliffe was usually in order.

“Thank you.” Malcolm nodded as he set two silvers down, grabbed his bag and the package. It was small. The size of a brick but lighter than that. Who was it from? It didn’t say, at least not on the paper it was wrapped.

He returned home quick. Not once stopping to check the fields but entered the cottage provided to them by Arl Bryland in exchange for them tilling the land. The previous freeholder died with no heirs so the Arl paid the locals to tend the land. The Hawkes had started out as just farmhands, but over a few short years they had proven their worth. But that was set aside.  It was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Did Danal have sugar?” Leandra perked up from her spot by the hearth. The scent of turnip and barley stew almost made his mouth water. “Dinner will be ready just past noon.”

Garrett pulled a loaf from beside the hearth. Fresh bread set on the table as Marian set a plate of cheese out. Carver was sat at the table. Their pocket copy of the Chant, and a slip of parchment beside him as he practiced his letters. Bethany sat beside him, helping him.

“You need to steady your hands.” Her voice was soft, soothing when she taught her twin something she picked up with ease.

“I am.” Carver grumbled as he pressed on the reed pen too sharply, blotted the word with a jab of ink. “Ugh. You do it.”

“No no, you’ve almost got it.” Bethany wiped the ink away with a cloth. “Try again, softer.  And remember, steady.”

Malcolm would have normally praised this, but his heart clenched as the weight of the package cluttered his mind.

“Leandra, a word.” He set his bag down by the door and did not wait. He walked past his children into the sole room of the cottage.

He paced in the bedroom. His and Leandra’s bed pushed to one side.  Marian and Bethany’s on the other. Garrett and Carver slept on bedrolls in the main room with the mabari and cats. There was a fire brazier with a dying flame. They would need to replenish it.

“Malcolm?” Leandra stepped into the room. Malcolm gestured for her to close it. Without waiting, he cast a silencing ward, so none could eavesdrop. He set the package on the bed. “We received a package?” Lenadra looked up. “Could it be from Gamlen?”

“Perhaps.” It was likely from Gamlen, but if it wasn’t...

Leandra went to open it, but he stopped her. “Wait.” He cast a detection spell. No magic was detected. It wasn’t enough, so he tried a revealing ward, then a dispel spell. He tried a few more magical means, but the package was just a package.

“Can I open it now, or are you afraid I’ll get a papercut?” Leandra teased as she picked it up.

“Of course.” He smiled. He didn’t want to alarm her. It was addressed to both of them. She unwrapped it, revealing a small wooden box where two folded pieces of parchment sat. Each folded parchment had a name. One was addressed to Malcolm specifically.  The other to Leandra but a note was added on.

“Read only if the other cannot be delivered.” Leandra read out.

That set Malcolm’s senses off.  He stepped up just as Leandra opened the first to him.

“Malcolm.” Leandra read. Her gaze flicked ahead to read, widening as her complexion paled and she stumbled back.

“What is it?” He caught her, lowering her to sit on the bed. She turned the letter to him.

 

 

> _Malcolm,_
> 
> _I write this knowing in the event of what I know to happen, indeed happens, may be read by your wife or your children. If this letter reaches you in time, know that I had to account for all possibilities. I do not know when it would happen only it would happen in this year._
> 
> _You must be confused. I know I would if I received a letter as vague as this. My name is Selena. You have never met me, nor I you. But I have heard of you. I know of a few tales. The things you have done for love and the price you paid for freedom. I know of the prison you helped fortify._
> 
> _Do not be frightened. I mean no harm. I only wish to warn you. I am not some sinister figure, merely a woman with knowledge of things to come._
> 
> _You will die by the time this year ends. You will succumb to an illness. Take pleasure and comfort in the last few months you have with your family. Tell them everything you think they should know, so they aren’t left in the dark to make a mistake that cannot be undone. The prison will need to be resealed. A mistake will be made if it is not done correctly. Your legacy will be realized._
> 
> _Regretfully,_
> 
> _Selena River_

 

Malcolm’s head swam with the knowledge. Was this another witch? Was this Selena like Flemeth?  He’d heard tales of her daughters. Was she one of them?

“What does the other letter say?” He snatched it up, opening.  Leandra barely covered her whimper as she read along with him.

 

 

> _Leandra,_
> 
> _My name is Selena. You have never met me, nor I you. Do not be frightened. I mean no harm. I am not some sinister figure, merely a woman with knowledge of things to come.  I only wish to warn you._
> 
> _First, I am sorry for your loss. I have no means or reference to know the pain you must have gone through or are going through. I wish I could give you good news, that life will get better. But regretfully I feel you must be told of things to come and how much worse they will get._
> 
> _There is a Blight coming. You will flee, but you will be too late to head North. You will head south towards Gwaren to head to Kirkwall. You will lose a child to an ogre. You will blame your eldest. Please don’t blame them. They tried their best._
> 
> _When you arrive to Kirkwall, do not be surprised the Amell name has lost its lustre. Your brother has sold the estate, despite your parents having left everything to you. It will take time to get it back, as slavers have taken residency. Gamlen lost it to pay off his gambling debts. Your children will be indentured for a year to pay your way in._
> 
> _In the years following, you will lose another child. You will receive flowers from an admirer. It is not an admirer, it is a blood mage with nefarious intent. I know you will likely wish to move on from Malcolm, but don’t. It is better if you don’t._
> 
> _It is a lot to take in. But please heed my warnings._
> 
> _I know losing your husband has likely been a blow to your funds. I do not have much to my own name, but I send this with a sovereign. I hope that will make things easier in this time._
> 
> _If possible, escape Ferelden before the horde comes for Lothering._
> 
> _Signed,_
> 
> _Selena River_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting ages to finally get to this Intermission chapter. Hoolly heck. Also I apologize for the REALLY late update. Life got busy, and then I just could not figure out the next plot arc. I had written myself into a corner and I needed to figure that out first before I could proceed. So I took a break and wrote other stuff, as you guys might have noticed. But Tits is back.


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